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The Author. 


THE 


YOUNG REFUGEES 


THE ADVENTURES OF TWO LADS 
FROM OLD VIRGINIA 


BY 

EDGAR ARNOLD 

IV 


RICHMOND, VA. 

THE HERMITAGE PRESS 
1912 


Copyright, 1912, by 
EDGAR ARNOLD 



£7,a-° 

©Cl. A 328 7 71 


yyitdsO *£> / V 4 $/ 2-, 


To the memory of my mother and father this story is 
affectionately inscribed. 


* 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

1. Leaving the Old Home n 

2. Good-bye to Old Virginia 19 

3. The First Adventure 26 

4. First Morning in Georgia 32 

5 - The New Home 38 

6. The Boys Make a Friend 44 

7. The Haunted House 50 

8. The Doctor’s Return 57 

9. Tom and Ned Enter School 62 

10. A Bad Citizen 67 

11. Tom Saves Bob Peyton’s Life 73 

12. Tom Whips a Bully 79 

13. The Refugees 84 

14. The Advance of Sherman 90 

15. The Federals Occupy the Town 96 

16. Some Incidents of the War 102 

17. The Horrors of War 107 

18. Battle of New Hope Church 112 

19. Ned Finds Treasure 117 

20. The Passing of Armies 123 

21. Visited by Bummers 128 

22. Tom and Ned Prisoners 133 

23. Escape from Camp 139 

24. An Unexpected Meeting 145 

25. Dick’s Friends to the Rescue 151 

26. The Federals Lose Their Prisoner 157 

27. What Followed the Escape 163 


6 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER ** AGE 

28. A Call from the Raiders 

29. A Short Expedition 175 

30. How Sam’s Plan Worked 181 

31. End of the War 187 

32. The Lodge Opens 192 

33. Taking the First Degree 197 

34. An Unwelcome Return 202 

35. A Terrible Deed 207 

36. Doctor Archer in Danger 213 

37. The Lodge Resumes Business 219 

38. Fighting Follows Feasting 225 

39. Ned Has a Party 231 

40. A Serenade and a Ghost 237 

41. The Second Degree 244 

42. Captured by the Raiders 250 

43. Jim Seeks Help 256 

44. Jim Tells of the Capture 262 

45. Rangers to the Rescue 268 

46. The Last of the Raiders 274 

47. Happy Ending of the Adventure 280 

48. Good-bye to the Rangers 285 

49. The Oath of Amnesty 292 

50. Our Friends Bid Adieu to Dixie 299 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


The Author Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

Jawge Washington Ebeneezer Johnsing 33 

Aunt Lucy Enjoys a Smoke 61 

“I have found the gold” 121 

A “Chaney Berry” Starts a Lively Discussion 167 

The Initiation 195 

Tom Archer Leads the Parade 221 

Mickey Dolan 247 

Captain Ware Mounted for the Rescue 273 


PREFACE 


This story was originally written in short sketches, and these 
were read upon Friday afternoons, for the entertainment of the 
boys of my school. 

At the solicitation of many of my young friends, these sketches 
were combined in one complete story and published in its present 
form. 

Each incident herein related is founded upon fact, and the 
adventures are recorded as they actually occurred. 

For the account of the disposition of the troops and move- 
ments of Johnston and Sherman’s armies at the battles of New 
Hope Church we are indebted to Pollack’s History of the Civil 
War. 

Winchester, Va. 




































THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


CHAPTER ONE 

LEAVING THE OLD HOME 

Among the first to respond to the call of the South, in 1861, 
was Doctor Thomas Archer, who at that time resided in one of 
the western counties of Virginia. Preferring that arm 1 of the 
service, he joined the cavalry, and went to the front, when the 
Federals threatened to invade the State by w'ay of Harper’s 
Ferry. 

Some time in 1863, the doctor was dangerously wounded. In- 
deed, it was first thought by his comrades, that he had been killed, 
but happily, subsequent examination proved that life was not 
entirely extinct. 

On leaving the hospital, to which he had been carried after the 
battle, he was informed by the surgeons in charge that his days of 
active service were over. To our friend this was a serious matter. 
Not only must he retire from) the army, but in all probability, he 
might never again be able to resume his practice. 

For the present, nothing remained, but to make his way as 
speedily as possible to his family. He first looked up some good 
people, who had been attentive to him while in the hospital, and, 
who had also taken care of his horse. After thanking these 
friends for their kindness, he mounted his faithful steed, and 
started upon his journey. 

His ride w*as long, and the wound in his chest gave him much 


12 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


trouble, but by making frequent stops, and going slowly, he ar- 
rived at home early in January, 1864. 

Doctor Archer could no longer look to his practice for support, 
as it had been pretty well taken up by another physician, during 
his absence. He now realized that he must seek other means of 
providing for those who were dependent upon him. 

A short time prior to his departure for the army, he had in- 
herited some property in the State of Georgia. Only a short 
while after receiving notice of this accession to his worldly goods, 
he was called aWay to the front, and could give the matter but 
scant attention. 

Having now time to look over the papers sent him by his attor- 
ney, he found the property to be of considerable value. The 
chief part of the estate consisted of a small plantation of two 
hundred and forty acres, more or less. Besides this, there were 
two dwelling houses and a store room in the town situated near 
by. 

The doctor had noticed that several of the documents received 
by' him had been witnessed by Colonel Hall and Mr. Breese. 

Both were lifelong residents of D , the town which contained 

a portion of the inherited estate. With these two gentlemen a 
correspondence had recently been opened. 

While our friend Was trying to decide what his future course 
should be, the question was settled by the action of his chief 
tenant. The latter had written to announce his intention of vacat- 
ing the plantation. 

Right here the doctor found the solution of the difficulty, which 
for some time had confronted him. He determined to go with 
his family to Georgia and take charge of the estate himself. 

Having reached this conclusion, he wrote at once to the gen- 
tlemen previously mentioned, and informed them of his intention. 
His letters were promptly answered, and he received assurrance 
from both correspondents that a cordial welcome awaited him. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


13 


Doctor Archer was much pleased with the prospect before him, 
and congratulated himself upon having decided to move to the 
South. 

“The plantation,” wrote Colonel Hall, “will of itself afford an 
excellent support. There will also be the rents from the store 
room and your two houses. Doctor Perker, our only physician, 
is getting along in years, and is anxious to retire. Here is a 
fine opening, should your health permit you to practice. The 
house, which will be your home, is one of the most beautiful and 
desirable in the community.” 

To the doctor and his wife the future now looked very bright, 
and preparations for their journey began immediately. The first 
of March was settled upon as the date for starting, as this 
would give them ample time to get everything in proper shape. 

Doctor Archer’s two boys, Tom and Ned, aged fifteen and 
thirteen, respectively, were almost wild with delight, upon being 
told they were going to Georgia. 

To think that they would ride hundreds of miles on the cars, 
cross large rivers on steamboats, and see great cities. This was 
something that they had never dreamed of doing, and they 
could scarcely wait for the hour of starting. 

Besides his two sons, the doctor had one daughter, Mary, who 
was nine years of age. The three children spent many hours in 
talking over their coming journey. 

One night while getting ready to retire, the brothers were 
speaking of their new home, and Ned, who wished to be as much 
like an adventurer as possible, suggested : 

“Tom, we will have to call ourselves “The Young Refugees.” 

A very important member of the physician’s household was 
Aunt Lucy, an old negro woman. This faithful soul had been 
Mrs. Archer’s nurse and constant attendant from the days of 
her earliest childhood. 

The doctor, upon his return from the war, informed Aunt Lucy 


14 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


that she was free to go where she pleased. But the old woman 
declared she would remain with her mistress until she died. The 
children were devoted to their “black mammy,” and would not 
hear of her leaving them. With her was her grand daughter, 
Liz, who Was twelve or thirteen years old. 

For some time Doctor Archer could not find a purchaser for 
his home, but he finally sold it to one of his neighbors. He then 
packed up such things as he desired to retain, and disposed of the 
remainder. 

To contain the goods, which were to be shipped such a great 
distance, strong packing cases were built by a carpenter of the 
village. The cases were to be sent to Staunton by wagon, thence 
by freight to Marietta, Georgia, twenty miles from! the doctor’s 
prospective home. 

Our friends had learned that at least a week must be spent upon 
the cars before reaching Marietta. They were therefore advised 
to make ample provision for the maintenance of the family upon 
the road. 

It would be almost impossible to obtain anything in the shape 
of food after passing Petersburg. Accordingly, supplies of 
eatables were sent to Richmond, there to be prepared for the 
journey. 

Being well acquainted in the capital of Virginia, Doctor Archer 
made arrangements for a boarding place for the family during 
the time he should remain there. To this boarding house he 
shipped a number of hams, flour, a coop of fowls, and a small 
cask of eggs packed in chaff. 

Having thus provided for any future contingency, the doctor 
and his family were ready to say goodbye to their friends. Aunt 
Lucy and Liz were to be taken to Staunton in one of the wagons 
that carried the trunks and other luggage. 

The vehicles were to start in the afternoon, and the old woman 
and her granddaughter would be obliged to stay for the night in 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


15 


the town. One of the negro teamsters had readily agreed, for a 
small sum, to keep them at his home and have them at the train 
the following morning. 

“What ebber yo do, Mis Mary,” begged Aunt Lucy as the teams 
were moving awiay from the house, “fo de good Lawd’s sake, 
don’t go off and leab dis po ole nigger whar she nebber see yo 
no mo.” 

“Don’t worry yourself for a moment,” assured Mrs. Archer, 
“I will never go without you.” 

The last evening that the doctor and his family were to spend 
in their old home arrived. Many of their friends and neighbors 
called after supper to say goodbye, and wish them a safe journey. 

It was very sad indeed, this parting from all these good people 
whom they might never again meet upon earth. They had lived 
very happily here, and the best wishes of all followed them on 
their journey. 

With their nearest neighbor, “Uncle Gid Smith,” as he was 
called by the village children, they spent the night before starting. 
To the great delight of Tom and Ned, their kind old friend had 
purchased their father’s riding horse Selim. 

Farmer Smith was merciful to his own beasts, and the lads 
felt that Selim would have a good home. He had carried his 
master upon m'any a lonely ride while visiting the sidk. He had 
borne him through numerous engagements during the war, and 
finally brought him safely home. 

The morning of departure arrived, and Uncle Gid made ready 
to take our friends to Staunton in his roomy carryall. An early 
start Was made, for they were to take the train for Richmond at 
nine o’clock. 

It was a bitter March morning, and the farmer remarked, as he 
tucked the buffalo robe snugly about him : 

“It will not surprise me to see snow before night.” 

“There is certainly every indication of it,” responded the 


i6 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


doctor. “The wind is from the right quarter, and there is a feel- 
ing of snow in the atmosphere.” 

“Hear the dead leaves how they rattle,” observed Uncle Gid, as 
he pointed at some scrubby oaks at the roadside. “Have you 
ever noticed, doctor, the peculiar noise made by dry leaves just 
before a snow?” 

“Indeed I have, many times,” assented Doctor Archer, “but we 
are now on our way to a State where snow seldom falls, and it 
is likely to be a long time before I hear it again.” 

“Don’t they have any snow at all in Georgia?” chirped Ned, who 
as he spoke, was briskly rubbing his ears in his efforts to restore 
a little warmth to them. 

“Rarely ever,” returned the doctor, “but I have heard,” he con- 
tinued, “that the section of the State to which we are going is 
remarkably healthy.” 

“I wish we had it a little warmer here,” grumbled Tom. “My 
nose is almost frozen.” 

Uncle Gideon was extremely fond of having a little fun with 
the youngsters. Hearing Tom’s complaint, he cried jokingly : 

“Put your nose in your pocket, it ought to keep warm there.” 

Ned had a laugh at his brother’s expense, but it was not long 
until he, too, was wishing for some warmer place than the car- 
riage. 

Conversation flagged soon after the farmer’s last remark, and 
gradually ceased altogether, for the cold was intense, and it re- 
quired all the efforts of the travellers to keep w&rm. 

Staunton was reached some time ahead of their train, and about 
the first person they noticed upon the platform of the station was 
Aunt Lucy. 

Without waiting for the folks to alight, the old woman ran 
forward crying joyfully: 

“Deed, an deed, Mis Mary, Ise glad to see yo, and I ain’t nebber 
gwinter leab yo no mo.” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


1 7 


Farmer Smith having seen his friends safely into the warm 
waiting room, bade them goodbye. He had some purchases to 
make before leaving town, and he did not care to be too late 
getting started up his road home. 

“Take good care of Selim, Uncle Gid,” cried the lads, waving 
a last farewell to their kind neighbor, as he passed from sight. 

It required all the time left upon the doctor’s hands to arrange 
for the shipment of his goods by freight and attend to expressing 
the baggage. By the time this was done, and his tickets pur- 
chased, the train arrived. 

What a wonderful experience was this for these children, the 
first ride upon the cars. How differently people regarded rail- 
road travel at the time when this story is written. 

In those days, when our friends travelled to Georgia, the cars 
were poorly equipped, and a trip of several hundred miles was 
something long to be remembered. 

Thirty years after the war railways traversed the country in 
every direction. Women and children made long trips with safety 
and ease. The coaches were fitted with every luxury and con- 
venience, and most persons looked upon a week’s journey as a 
very ordinary affair. 

Before the war railway and steamboat trips were taken only 
by those who were obliged to travel upon business, or by people 
of wealth. Railroads were few, and transportation was mostly 
by stage coach, by private conveyance, or by the slow moving 
canal boat. 

To our young friends, Tom and Ned, everything was new and 
strange, and they let nothing escape their eyes. Hearing their 
father remark that they would cross at least two rivers by steamer 
the boys looked upon themselves as great travellers. They won- 
dered what Uncle Gid would say could he now see them. 

Gordonsville was passed some time after noon, and a hearty 


i8 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


lunch was served from the basket, so thoughtfully provided by 
Farmer Smith’s good wife. 

As night came on apace, the sky, which all day had had a 
threatening appearance, now sent down its flakes of snow. 

Faster and thicker they fell, hiding houses, barns, and trees 
from sight. People coming aboard the train resembled dusty mil- 
lers, so heavily wtere they coated with snow. The long train 
pulled into Richmond after dark, but the snow still came down, 
and showed no signs of abating. 

The war had called into service every horse fit for use, and not 
enough conveyances could be found to transport the travellers 
arriving at the capital. 

Doctor Archer made every effort within his power to secure 
a vehicle of any kind, but all in vain. The family were obliged 
to go on foot to their stopping place, and a heavy, tiresome tramp 
they had through the snow. 

The ladies who kept the boarding house were expecting our 
friends, and were not long in making them feel at home. A 
warm supper, with the prospects of a good night’s rest, made 
them forget the discomforts of their long walk. 

Aunt Lucy was the most used up of any of the party, for she 
was getting up in years, and was not accustomed to such violent 
exercise. 

She was getting ready to retire, after going to the servants’ 
quarters, when she remarked painfully to her grand daughter: 

“I mus ax Marse Tom ter gib me sum o’ dat intment ter rub 
my ole jints. Dey akes me monstous bad.” 


CHAPTER TWO 


GOODBYE TO OLD VIRGINIA 

Tom and Ned sprang lightly from their beds the next morn- 
ing, and were surprised at the brightness of the sun. The dark 
clouds of the previous day were gone. The snow had stopped 
falling during the night, and that which lay upon the ground was 
rapidly melting. 

Hoisting one of the windows, they found the air blowing warm 
and mild upon their faces, and a feeling as of spring pervaded 
the atmosphere. 

The lads were entertaining themselves with the view from the 
windows of their bed chamber when a bell was heard in the lower 
hall. 

“That means breakfast,” cried Tom, “and we will have to hurry 
up and get dressed or we will be late.” 

“We will have plenty of time,” returned Ned. “I heard Miss 
Edmonds tell mother that the first bell was for rising.” 

Early in March it had been reported that travel between Rich- 
mond and points further South might soon be interrupted, and 
probably stopped altogether. 

Federals under Dahlgren and Fitzpatrick had been raiding in 
the vicinity of the capital of Virginia, and these raids were the 
chief cause for the exciting rumors afloat. 

At the breakfast table Doctor Archer was apprised of these 
reports. In consequence thereof, he determined to shorten his 
stay in Richmond very materially. 

In a few hours after he had finished his breakfast the doctor 


20 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


went down into the city to arrange for the transportation of his 
family and their baggage. 

Tom and Ned were allowed to accompany their father, who 
went some distance out of his way that they might see the capi- 
tol and the equestrian statue of Washington. 

In the afternoon the ladies of the house turned the kitchen 
over to Mrs. Archer. The latter, with the able assistance of Aunt 
Lucy, was busy until far in the evening preparing food for the 
journey. The chickens, hams, and other supplies shipped from 
their old home, had now to be made ready for the use of the 
family upon the cars. 

Aunt Lucy very neatly and deftly beheaded the fowls, while 
Liz, with the help of two other negro girls employed in the 
house, stripped them of their coats of feathers. Some further 
preparation and they were ready for roasting. 

Two large hampers purchased by the doctor were sent to the 
house in the afternoon. When supper was over, and the children 
were in their beds, the work of packing the baskets was at- 
tended to. 

Hams, roast fowls, hard boiled eggs, beat biscuits, and other 
substantiate were stowed away. The packing was at last finished. 
The lids were put on and strapped down, and Mrs. Archer gave 
a sigh of relief. 

Aunt Lucy, who stood by puffing and blowing, after the exer- 
tion of drawing the straps, exclaimed fervently : 

“Tank de good Lawd, Mis Mary, dats done at last. Et remins 
me ob gittin’ ready fo camp-meetin’.” 

The children were up bright and early next morning, ready for 
the start. Ned, who for the twentieth time had been to the front 
to watch for the conveyance, which was to take them all to the 
steamboat, cried joyously : 

“Oh, Tom; just come here and see what we are going 
to ride in.” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


21 


A large omnibus, a “Richmond Boat Line/’ drew up in front 
of the house, and the hampers and trunks were hoisted to the top 
of the vehicle. 

The family, when they had bidden their friends farewell, 
stepped into the conveyance and were driven rapidly to the steam- 
boat landing. 

They went whirling round corners, and bumping over cross- 
ings, and Aunt Lucy, who could scarcely keep her seat, fretfully 
exclaimed : 

“Ef dis am a omnybust, dis chile don’t want ter ride in no mo 
omnybustes.” 

The time spent on the steamboat was much too short to suit 
the young travellers. They had crossed the James River upon 
the regular ferry boat, a small steamer; but to these youngsters 
who had never seen even a small one, she looked very grand. The 
brothers were just beginning to enjoy the ride when the boat 
landed at the wharf. 

The travellers stepped from the ferry to find a train waiting 
to bear them to Petersburg. They had passed the last station, be- 
fore reaching the city, when the coach in which they were riding 
became separated from the rest of the cars. 

Being the rear coach of the train, its stopping was not 
noticed at the time. How the accident occurred was never 
known, but such things were common at that day. 

The passengers made the best of the situation, feeling assured 
that it would not be long before the car was missed. And so it 
proved, for in about half an hour a whistle was heard, and the 
train was seen coming slowly back. The coupling up was done 
in short order, and the run to Petersburg was made without 
further incident of importance. 

Doctor Archer found that no train left for the South until late 
in the afternoon, and he ordered dinner for the family at the hotel 


22 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


where they were stopping. He then went to the Provost Marshal 
to get passes, for no one could leave the city without them. 

Just before leaving the hotel he said to his wife: 

“You and the children get all the rest you can, for we will not 
be likely to see a bed before reaching Marietta.” 

Tom and Ned thought it would be great fun to travel by night, 
but their mother knew better, though she said nothing to discour- 
age them. Ned, who had lately read Children of the New Forest 
and Settlers in Canada, wished to have such adventures as befell 
the young folks in those stories written by Captain Marryatt. 
Had the lad been able to read the future he would not have been 
so eager. 

The train bearing passengers for the South left Petersburg in 
a driving rain. The sentinel posted at the gate of the railroad 
station had been given strict orders to allow no one to enter until 
an officer had examined the passes and pronounced them all 
right. 

Some persons, very unfortunately, neglected securing the papers 
Which were required to pass them from the city. They did not 
get off till the day following. 

Taking a hint from the clerk at the hotel, Doctor Archer went 
early to the depot. The officer was already upon the ground 
waiting for the opening of the gate. 

Approaching this soldier, the doctor said politely: 

“I have all this flock to look after. Will you be so kind as to 
examine my papers so that I can get my family upon the train 
as soon as the gates are open ?” 

The officer, who seemed pleased with the doctor’s appearance 
and manner of speaking, granted his request. Our friends were 
soon through the gates and secured good seats about the centre 
of the last car. 

Waiting until the train was well under way, the hampers were 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


23 


opened and the family partook of their evening meal. The chil- 
dren grew sleepy soon after, and they were made as comfortable 
as possible in the seats of the car. 

Before midnight the train became very much crowded. Trav- 
ellers, who were anxious to go South, entered the cars at almost 
every station. The rain still came down at a lively rate, and 
women and men, with water dripping from their garments, 
came in. 

Weary mothers were trying to quiet fretful children, while to 
add to the general discomfort, several men, who certainly were 
very much worse for liquor, kept running back and forth through 
the train. 

Frequent and very annoying delays were caused during the 
night, when the south-bound cars Were side-tracked to await the 
passing of trains on the way to Petersburg. 

At nine o’clock in the morning they entered the State of North 
Carolina, and Old Virginia was left behind. At Weldon the 
family changed to another road, and found much better accom- 
modations on the new train than they had reason to anticipate. 

On this train were several Confederate soldiers, and from their 
conversation it was learned that they were going as far as 
Atlanta, Georgia. One of these soldiers, who sat just in front 
of the doctor and his family, afforded them much amusement. 

This traveller was very young, a beardless youth in fact, but 
his uniform was worn and faded and looked as if it had seen 
service. His haversack appeared to be almost empty, but this 
did not seem to cause him the least concern. 

He joked with the boys, sang war songs, and laughed and 
chatted away, as if he had never known a care. His name, he 
told Tom and Ned, was Dick Carroll, and he lived near Atlanta. 

He amused the young people with stories of the war, and not 
a dull moment was spent in his company. He soon became a 
great favorite with most of the passengers upon the train, winning 


24 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


their hearts with his happy disposition and his readiness to 
oblige. 

No baggage was too heavy for his helping hand, and no child 
was found so cross that he could not stop its crying with his 
songs or funny tricks. 

At some of the more important stations the trains stopped for 
several minutes, and crowds of people were gathered to hear the 
news from the war. Dick Carroll never failed to go out at these 
times, and as the train pulled up to the platform he would taunt- 
ingly shout : 

“How far is it, my friends, to Tar River ?” 

Now, this particular inquiry was rather provoking to the peo- 
ple of this section. It was almost sure to draw a rough response 
from some one in the crowd, but this simply increased the enjoy- 
ment of the young soldier. 

At one station, after the usual question had been asked, an old 
gray-headed fellow, leaning lazily against a telegraph pole, yelled 
roughly : 

“Git outen thar, you derned goober grabber, and I’ll show you 
how fer hit is to Tar River.” 

The folks in Georgia are called “goober grabbers” by their 
brethren of North Carolina, and the old man’s reply was greeted 
with shouts of laughter and much jeering by the crowd on the 
platform. 

For a moment young Carroll was silenced, but for a moment 
only. Quickly recovering himself as the train moved forward, 
he retorted: 

“All right, grandfather ‘Tar Heel,’ I’ll be back on the very 
next train. Get your hair cut and those luxuriant whiskers 
trimmed, and then you’ll be ready to show me the way to ‘Tar 
River.’ ” 

Hair and whiskers must have been a sore subject to the old 
fellow. He grew terribly enraged as the soldier finished speak- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


25 


ing, and running after the train, he shook his fist and swore loudly 
at his tormentor. The latter entered the car, feeling that, after 
all, he had had the best of the encounter. 

It was near midday when Mrs. Archer called Aunt Lucy to 
assist in getting dinner from the hampers. Ned, who was observ- 
ing these preparations, begged his mother to allow him to invite 
the young soldier to dine with the family. A favorable reply being 
given, the lad hurried away, and soon returned with his friend. 

One of the large baskets had been opened, and as he was 
handed a portion of the good things therein contained, Dick Car- 
roll remarked gratefully : 

“Mrs. Archer, this will be the first good meal I have enjoyed 
for three days. Sweet potatoes and water are about all I have 
had to eat and drink. I am certainly indebted to you for saving 
me from hunger.” 

The doctor and his wife were much affected upon hearing this 
confession of the young man’s condition, and they quietly deter- 
mined that he should no longer want for food while he continued 
in their company. 

“Until we reach Atlanta,” said Mrs. Archer, addressing Dick 
Carroll, as he finished his dinner, “you will comie and take your 
meals with us.” 

With heartfelt thanks this hospitable offer was accepted. That 
same afternoon the young Georgian confided to Tom and Ned 
the fact that one large sweet potato had been his sole dependence 
for the remainder of the journey. 


CHAPTER THREE 


THE FIRST ADVENTURE 

At many stations and switches, after leaving Virginia, the curi- 
osity of our friends w!as excited by the large number of barrels 
which they noticed along the road. These, they were told, con- 
tained rosin, an article which brought much revenue to the owners 
of the great pine forests through which they frequently passed. 

One afternoon about five o’clock the train on which the doctor 
and his family were travelling ran in upon a siding. There they 
were to await a train going toward Weldon. Tom and Ned took 
this opportunity to examine some casks of rosin, and as they 
stepped from the train they were followed by Dick Carroll. 

The two lads did not spend much time looking at the barrels, 
but began to amuse themselves by throwing bits of rosin, first at 
trees and then at one another. While thus engaged, the cars they 
were awaiting went by, and their own train pulled out at the far 
end of the switch. Faster and faster it moved without the 
slightest notice from Torn and Ned. 

Dick Carroll, whose entire attention had been fixed upon the 
boys, was not watching the train. Hearing a long whistle, he 
turned to look, and in an instant realized that they were left 
behind. 

Had it not been for the company of the young soldier, the posi- 
tion in which the brothers found themselves would have been 
very serious. Left in the great pine forest at a lonely way- 
station, at which trains rarely ever stopped, was a situation cal- 
culated to appall the heart of any lad. 

To add to the distress of the boys, darkness was not far away, 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


27 


and the thought of spending the night at this unfrequented place 
was almost more than they could bear. 

Dick Carroll saw the struggle which his young friends were 
making to keep up their courage, and did all within his power to 
cheer them. He had finished one story of adventure, and was 
about to begin another, when Ned excitedly cried : 

“Listen ! I believe I hear a train coming.” 

Down went the soldier upon his knees, and placing his ear to 
one of the rails he listened for a moment. Presently he sprang 
to his feet, shouting gayly as he tossed his cap in the air: “We 
are all right this time, youngsters, for a train is coming, and she 
is headed in the proper direction for us.” 

Before the brothers had time to congratulate each other upon 
the favorable turn affairs had taken, the noise of the puffing 
engine was plainly heard. In something less than ten minutes 
the train came in sight, and the sound of the whistle echoed and 
reechoed through the forest. 

The train proved to be a freight, and a second time the whistle 
was sounded. The engineer had signalled for down brakes, for 
young Carroll had been seen standing on the track waving his 
cap. The train cam'e to a stop near where our adventurers were 
standing. One of the brakemen hailed them, and explanations 
followed. 

The conductor who was in charge of the freight was a man 
of excellent heart, and when he had listened to the story of the 
mishap which had befallen the three travellers, he said kindly : 

“Get on my train and we will run to the first telegraph station. 
From there you can send a message to the father of the lads and 
tell him to be on the lookout for them at Wilmington. We will 
get into that city before his train leaves in the morning.” 

Matters turned out as the conductor had predicted, and early 
next morning Doctor Archer was on hand at the depot to welcome 
the boys and their companion. 


28 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The conductor of the freight was warmly thanked by the doc- 
tor for his kindness to Tom and Ned and their friend the sol- 
dier. The good-hearted fellow refused to receive any pay, and 
declared that he was only too glad to help them out of a bad 
scrape.” 

Doctor Archer upon his arrival in Wilmington that morning had 
put up at a hotel not far from the depot. To this place he 
promptly repaired with the boys and the soldier, for he knew that 
his wife Was anxiously awaiting them. 

The mother having affectionately greeted her sons, and thanked 
the young fellow for taking care of them, Tom asked : 

“Father, when did you first miss us from the train?” 

“About an hour after leaving the station where you got off,” 
replied the doctor. “We supposed that you had gotten on at the 
rear platform and were in the last car, until the conductor in- 
quired about you. We soon found you were not aboard the train, 
and of course we knew you had been left behind. You must have 
been picked up by the freight before we missed you, for we re- 
ceived your message at the second station to which we came. We 
then were satisfied that everything would come all right.” 

Breakfast was eaten at the hotel that morning, for in all likeli- 
hood there would be no opportunity of obtaining another warm 
meal before Marietta was reached. It was certainly a great treat 
to find themselves together at table once more, and all did justice 
to the excellent bill of fare. 

They had scarcely left the dining room when the baggage 
wagon came for trunks and hampers. Aunt Lucy and Liz had 
been served with breakfast in the kitchen of the hotel, so there 
was no delay in getting off. 

Before taking train our friends crossed the Cape Fear River 
upon a steamer, and Tom and Ned thus had a chance for one 
more ride upon the water. 

On their way to the ferry the family passed the Navy Yard. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


29 


With their friend Dick, the lads dropped behind for a moment to 
take a peep at the big guns and piles of cannon balls. 

Seated in the cars, after crossing the ferry, the travellers were 
ready for the next long stage of their journey. All of that day 
and night they travelled without accident or interruption. Early 
dawn found them entering the capital of South Carolina, the 
city of Columbia, which was later nearly destroyed by Sherman’s 
army. 

Close connection was made at this place, and no time was given 
our friends to look around. How little did the inhabitants of this 
city think, in the spring of 1864, what terrible scenes they would 
witness a few months later. It was well that they knew nothing 
of the deeds to be enacted in their midst by the conquering foe. 

On the road after leaving Columbia, the travellers passed 
Ninety-Six, famous in the story of “Horse Shoe Robinson,” a tale 
of the Revolution, written by J. P. Kennedy. 

Only a year before Tom and Ned had read this story, and they 
were greatly interested to know that they were passing through a 
section of such historic associations. 

Owing to some delay upon the road, caused by an accident to a 
train ahead of them, the folks from Virginia did not reach 
Atlanta until about noon of the day on which they left Columbia. 

They were to start for Marietta in less than half an hour, and 
Doctor Archer hurried to an eating place and returned in a few 
moments accompanied by a waiter. This man brought hot coffee, 
egg pone, and beefsteak, and all hands dined on the train. 

To the great regret of every member of the doctor’s family, 
they parted here from their friend, Dick Carroll. The young 
Georgian plainly showed his sorrow on separating from those 
who had treated him as one of their own kindred, and he thanked 
them again and again for their hospitality. 

The young fellow still had some distance to travel before 


30 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


reaching his destination, and Aunt Lucy packed his haversack 
with provisions. 

Mrs. Archer, as well as the doctor, thanked him for his kind- 
ness to the children, and the former slipped some money in the 
pocket of his jacket as he was bidding the boys goodbye. 

A short run after leaving Atlanta brought the family to the end 
of their railroad trip at Marietta. Here they stopped at the hotel 
nearest the depot and passed a very comfortable night, consider- 
ing the lack of good beds. 

Tom and Ned, upon rising next morning, ran to the window to 
have a look about them. The first thing that drew their atten- 
tion was a number of goats playing around the stable yard. 

The lads were highly entertained by the antics of these frisky 
little animals, and made up their minds to ask their father to buy 
them a pair. 

Doctor Archer was glad to find upon inquiry at the freight office 
that his goods had arrived, but some trouble wits experienced 

before he could find means to convey his effects to D . Upon 

the promise of extra pay for their use, he managed to secure two 
four-horse teams. 

A large, three-seated two-horse vehicle was hired for the 
family. The teamsters were not long in loading, and the start 
was mlade for the new home, twenty miles away. They trav- 
elled slowly, and the carriage kept company with the heavy wagons. 

About two o’clock a halt was called at a spring near the road. 
Our friends took the opportunity, while the horses were feeding 
and resting, to eat their dinner, picnic style. The weather was 
warm and mild, and the children enjoyed a romp upon the leaf- 
covered ground about the spring. 

Only one short stop Was made after this to inquire the way. 
It was just getting dark when the travellers saw the lights 
of D . 

By previous arrangement Tom and Ned were to stay all night 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


3i 


with Mr. Breese. The rest of the party were to put up at Colonel 
Hall’s. 

The last named gentleman had been a soldier of the Mexican 
War, and was about sixty years of age. He had lost his wife, 
and besides himself, his family consisted of a widowed daughter, 
Mrs. Jeffreys, and a son of fifteen. 

The Virginians received a warm welcome from these hospitable 
people, and as they were worn out by travel, they retired imme- 
diately after supper. 

Aunt Lucy, Liz, and the teamsters were made comfortable for 
the night in the negro quarters. We venture to say their slumber 
was sound and dreamless, and none of the weary travellers were 
kept awake by reason of the strange surroundings. 


CHAPTER FOUR 


FIRST MORNING IN GEORGIA 

D , the town to which Doctor Archer had brought his fam- 

ily to make for them 1 , so far as he then knew, a home for the 
remainder of their lives, was the county seat of P ding. 

It was finely situated in the northwestern section of the State, 
about thirty miles distant from' Atlanta. The country round it 
was rolling, the climate was fine, and there was an abundance of 
excellent water. 

The town, which was beautifully located, had a population of 
somle hundreds. The houses, except in the central portion, were 
somewhat scattered at the time of which we write. 

The court-house, a substantial brick building, stood about the 
centre of the town, facing a beautiful green. This square was 
intended for musters, or for other public gatherings, and had 
stores and shops opening upon it. 

In a grove of fine oaks, immediately in the rear of the court- 
house, were two churches, Methodist and Baptist. These houses 
of worship were separated by a space of a hundred yards or more. 

Other buildings of which it may be necessary to speak, were two 
large frame hotels, both of which lacked patronage on account of 
the war. Indeed, these buildings, as well as most other places 
of business or amusement, were deserted upon the first reports of 
the advance of Sherman’s army. 

The people of D and vicinity were of about the same char- 

acter usually met with in towns of like size and environment in the 
South. 

The outbreak of hostilities found them peaceful and law-abiding 







1 







- ** 


"A 




«• 














Jawge Washington Ebeneezer Johnsing 



THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


33 


citizens, with few of the undesirable element in their midst. 
For the breaches of peace that occurred later, the war was mainly 
responsible. 

At this time most men of proper age were with their com- 
mands at the front, as they were in all parts of the South. So far 
no invading army had entered this section. But recently the dark 
cloud of war had been gathering, and would burst ere long over 
this quiet and peaceful community. 

The above description of the town and its inhabitants is suf- 
ficient, we think, for the purposes of this story. We will now 
return to our friends whom we left sleeping off the effects of their 
long journey from Virginia. 

Never did Tom and Ned Archer sleep sounder than on the night 
of their arrival in Georgia. They were so worn out that they 
could scarcely keep their eyes open until they had partaken of 
their suppers. In spite of this, they were out of bed early next 
morning and impatiently awaiting the summons to breakfast. 

Mr. Breese was a very religious man, and morning and evening 
prayer, as well as reading a scripture lesson, he never omitted. 
This being a particular occasion, the service was prolonged be- 
yond its usual length. To his customary devotions, the gentleman 
added fervent petitions in behalf of the strangers, who had spent 
the night under his roof. 

At last prayers were over, breakfast was eaten, and after thank- 
ing Mr. Breese the lads set off to join their parents at Colonel 
Hall’s. Their way led them through the grove and past the town 
spring, and from this was taken a drink, “for luck,” the boys 
said. 

To the lads as they walked along everything appeared bright 
and beautiful. They were already feeling delighted with their 
surroundings. 

“Just think, Ned, how it was snowing when we got to Rich- 


34 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


mond, and how 1 cold it was when we left home. Why, it is like 
summer here. The trees are actually putting out their foliage.” 

“You miust remember we are much farther south,” replied Ned. 
“Yesterday I heard father say that we would never have any cold 
weather here such as we had in Virginia.” 

“It will seem very strange not to have any snow at Christmas, 
and we shall certainly miss the coasting and skating.” 

“Oh, Tom!” sorrowfully exclaimed Ned, “how we will miss 
sleigh-riding behind Selim,” and the eyes of the lad filled with 
tears as his thoughts reverted to the pleasant winter sports in his 
old home. 

Both of our young friends were beginning to feel sad, as these 
recollections of the past were revived. Fortunately, just at that 
moment, their attention was attracted by a small and very black 
negro boy who was approaching from the opposite direction. 

“Is yo all Massa Doctor’s boys ?” inquired this quaint specimen 
of humanity, as he gave the lads a comical look. 

Receiving an affirmative reply, the little darkey said : 

“Yo all am ter cum long wid me, an’ I’ll show yo whar de 
Kurnel libs.” 

The lads had gone but a short distance in the wake of their 
sable guide, when Ned with boyish curiosity inquired his name. 

“You wanter know my name, does yo?” returned the little 
darkey. “Wal, mammy, her say my name air Jawge Washington 
Ebyneezer Johnsing, but mos fokes roun hyar calls me Ebony, 
caze de say I air so black.” 

The brothers were much amused at this reply, and as they were 
about to enter the gate at Colonel Hall’s, Tom playfully remarked : 

“Well, Ebony, that’s a pretty long name for such a small boy.” 

Doctor Archer came down from his room that morning to find 
the colonel, who was a very early riser, already up and bustling 
about the negro quarters giving orders for the work of the day. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


35 


It was not long before he joined the doctor upon the piazza, 
where the latter stood taking a look around the place. The gen- 
tlemen exchanged greetings, and then engaged in conversation. 

Mrs. Archer and Mary came out a few moments later, and 
were congratulated by the colonel upon looking so well after their 
long and fatiguing journey. The lady assured her host that she 
had never rested better in her life, and it was owing to this fact, 
she declared, that she had so speedily recovered from the weari- 
ness of the trip. 

If the night’s rest was enjoyed by our friends from Virginia, 
so was the excellent breakfast of which they partook that morn- 
ing. The gentlemen were rising from the table when Colonel 
Hall said to his guest : 

“May I have a few moments’ conversation with you in the 
library?” 

“Most assuredly,” returned the doctor. “The ladies, I see, are 
anxious for a chat over their last cup, and this will afford us 
plenty of time for our talk.” 

When the gentlemen had entered the library and seated them- 
selves, the colonel opened the conversation with the following 
question : 

“On your journey from Virginia to this State, did you hear any 
special talk upon the subject of the war? I mean in reference to 
this section particularly.” 

“Not so much by private citizens in the towns where we were 
detained,” answered the doctor, “but on the train upon which we 
travelled were a number of our soldiers, and among them a great 
deal was said of Sherman’s advance upon Atlanta, by way of 
Dalton.” 

“Some engagements have already taken place in the country 
around there,” said the colonel. “Indeed, as late as the twenty- 
sixth of last month, battles have been fought between here and 
that section. I fear we shall hear, at almost any time, of Sher- 


36 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


man’s advance upon this town, and this has given me no end 
of worry in the last week or so.” 

“You and I, colonel, have been soldiers, and can put up with 
war’s hardships, but it is women and children who must suffer 
most,” returned the doctor. 

“And to think that I have been partly the cause of your family 
being brought here to risk perhaps all the dangers of war. How 
can you ever forgive me, doctor ?” 

“I am very sorry, indeed,” replied Doctor Archer, “that you 
feel as you do about this matter, but I can assure you, there is no 
cause for worry. In all probability I should have come here even 
if you had not written to me at all. Indeed,” resumed the doctor, 
“it was about the only thing left for me to do under the circum- 
stances.” 

“You can form no idea,” said the colonel, who spoke with 
apparent relief, “what a weight your words have lifted from my 
heart.” 

“I am sure you have no occasion to censure yourself,” observed 
the doctor. “If the worst comes, we will stand by each other like 
men, trusting to Providence to watch over our families and pro- 
tect them from harm.” 

“That’s all we can do,” returned the colonel, “but at the same 
time, let me assure you, that my house and whatever I have is 
at all tim£s at your service.” 

“I heartily thank you, colonel, for your generous offer, and 
if the day ever comes that I can avail myself of it, I shall not be 
backward in calling upon you. I trust we shall both come off 
better than we anticipate, but rely on me in any event.” 

While this conversation was taking place between the two gen- 
tlemen in the library, the teamsters were making ready to start 
for the doctor’s home. As soon, therefore, as the colonel and his 
guest came out upon the piazza they were joined by Mrs. Archer 
and the children, who were eager to be off. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


37 


The colonel took a seat in the carriage with the doctor’s family, 
and after telling the wagoners to follow, the start was made on 
the last and shortest stage of the long journey. 

From his place beside the doctor Colonel Hall pointed out such 
things as he thought would interest his friends from Virginia. 
Doctor Archer and his wife were much pleased with the appear- 
ance of that part of the town through which they were passing, 
and both looked forward to a happy life in their Southern home. 

Tom and Ned were perched upon the top of the packing cases 
in the wagon immediately following the carriage. From their 
elevated seats they commanded a most excellent view of every- 
thing within sight. The teamster was highly entertained by the 
remarks of the delighted youngsters, and laughed with evident en- 
joyment at some of the comments made upon various objects. 


CHAPTER FIVE 


THE NEW HOME 

The property which had come into Doctor Archer’s possession 
by inheritance, was not a great distance from Colonel Hall’s. Con- 
sequently, after a drive of less than ten minutes the house was 
pointed out to the doctor and his wife. 

The instant the carriage drew up in front of the gate Tom and 
Ned sprang from the wagon in which they had ridden and ran 
forward exclaiming joyfully : 

“Oh, father ; what a lovely place !’’ 

How happy the parents were upon witnessing the pleasure of 
the children at sight of their new home. Colonel Hall also seemed 
pleased, for he remarked to the doctor : 

“You can see that I was not much out of the way when I told 
you that your home was the most desirable in this section. I 
knew you could not help liking it.” 

The house with its surroundings was something entirely new 
to the children. To the mother and father, who were born in 
that part of Virginia where there was no lack of large planta- 
tions, it bore a very familiar appearance. 

In that section of the State from which our friends had 
recently arrived, the houses were mostly of the two story style 
of architecture with small porticos. The dwelling upon which 
they now gazed with so much pleasure had one story, but many 
rooms and broad piazzas. 

From the gate a wide walk led up to the house. Crossing the 
piazza, they entered the spacious hall through a double door. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


39 


Upon either side of the hall were two large rooms. Those on the 
right, as they went in, were afterwards selected for parlor and 
library. The latter was also used by the doctor as an office. 

Mrs. Archer noticing the bright and cheerful look of the first 
room upon the left, decided to use it for her sitting and sewing 
room. The other, she concluded, would make an excellent bed 
chamber, and it was later fitted up for that purpose. 

The dining room was entered from the lower end of the hall, 
and was a large and well lighted apartment. Opening from this 
room were four small chambers, intended to be used as bed 
rooms for children or servants. 

One of these rooms was upon the right coming from the hall, 
and the other upon the left. The two remaining were at the end 
of the dining room farthest from the hall. 

Tom was given the chamber upon the right, while Ned had the 
one opposite. At one end of the big kitchen, which stood sev- 
eral yards in the rear of the dining room, were found two bed 
rooms. These were intended specially for the use of the kitchen 
servants. 

The yard could be reached from either side of the dining hall. 
On the left, and but a few feet from the steps, was a well of 
the coldest and purest water. It was of considerable depth, and 
had never been known to fail, even in times of drouth. 

Probably thirty yards from the kitchen stood the overseer’s 
house, containing two rooms. Several small cabins, formerly 
occupied by the negroes upon the plantation, but now vacant, 
were situated some distance back of the last mentioned building. 

There were stables, carriage house, smoke-house, and other 
out-door buildings. Upon the southern side was a fine kitchen 
garden, with a wide space of yard lying between it and the 
dwelling. 

Some distance back of the overseer’s house was a large peach 
orchard, already beginning to show signs of an abundance of 


40 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


fruit. Beyond the orchard were fields and woods belonging to 
the plantation. Not far from the stable stood an old cotton gin. 

Lying upon the north was a large field of rye, planted by the 
late tenant. For this due allowance had been miade by Colonel 
Hall, who had acted as the doctor’s agent. 

A large body of fine timber, part of which belonged to the 
estate, lay directly to the east and just across the road. 

Between the rye field and the yard was a broad lane, and into 
this lane the wagoners drove before unloading. While this work 
was in progress Tom and Ned were scampering about from one 
place to another, peering into every nook and corner. Each new 
discovery was greeted with shouts of joy. 

On going through the house with Aunt Lucy, Mrs. Archer 
found that furniture enough had been left to answer for their 
present needs. The articles were almost new, and had been left 
to be sold by the colonel. The doctor decided that the possession 
of these things would save considerable trouble, and he very 
gladly purchased them. 

The men who were with the teams worked rapidly in getting 
the goods from the wagons. They were not only anxious to be 
on the road for home, but were stimulated by the promise of a 
little money for themselves. 

When the work was done no time was lost before starting. 
The doctor had settled for the hire of men, horses and vehicles 
ere leaving Marietta, and there was nothing to detain them. 

In getting the boxes and trunks from the wagons the drivers 
had been given much assistance by a stout black fellow of twenty 
years or thereabouts. This young negro first closed the lane gate 
behind the departing teams, and then approached the doctor, 
hat in hand, to ask for further orders. 

Doctor Archer, supposing he was one of the colonel’s servants, 
said to that gentleman : 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


4i 


“Colonel, I would be glad to hire this boy from you until I 
can arrange for some help.” 

“He is not one of my hands,” replied the colonel, “but came 
here from East Tennessee with some planter, who, with his 
family and servants, was refugeeing further South.” 

“How does it happen that he is here now?” inquired the 
doctor. 

“He was taken sick about the time of their arrival,” returned 
the colonel, “and had to be left behind. He has worked at times 
for me, and I found him industrious and trustworthy. I am cer- 
tain you will not regret it if you employ him.” 

“I shall do so,” was the doctor’s reply, “and I consider myself 
very fortunate in getting him.” 

Turning to the boy, who during the conversation between the 
two gentlemen, had listened respectfully, Doctor Archer asked: 

“What is your name?” 

“Jeems Abner, sah,” was the reply. 

“Well, Jim, Colonel Hall speaks so well of you, that I am 
going to take you into my employ. If you prove faithful you 
need look no farther for a home.” 

“Berry much bliged to you, Marse Tom, berry much bliged 
indeed,” said Jim, touching the brim of his old straw hat. 

Jim had learned the doctor’s given name from Aunt Lucy, who 
had been bustling about giving orders to the good-natured and 
obliging fellow with much importance. 

“All right, Jim,” said the doctor. “You can go ahead and help 
with the unpacking and other work. The overseer’s house will 
make first-rate quarters for you, and Aunt Lucy will see to it 
that you have a bed put there before night.” 

We feel bound to say just here that Doctor Archer never 
had occasion to regret employing Jim. A more faithful or 
devoted servant than this same negro boy from Tennessee would 


42 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


have been very difficult to find. His faith in the doctor was 
something wonderful to witness. 

Unpacking now went on in real earnest, and as fast as Jim 
opened the large boxes, Tom and Ned carried the things into the 
different rooms as they were called for. The beds were taken 
out and spread upon the broad piazzas in the sun for a good 
airing. 

Under the skillful management of Mrs. Archer, the rooms be- 
gan to assume a cheerful and homelike appearance. Every one 
worked with a will, for they were very desirous of spending the 
night in their new home. 

Colonel Hall, finding that he could be of no assistance to the 
doctor, had taken his leave soon after the departure of the teams. 
Before going he had reminded his friends that he should expect 
them to dine with him. He did not forget the servants while 
giving the invitation. At twelve o’clock promptly labor was sus- 
pended long enough to allow the doctor and his family to Walk to 
Colonel Hall’s and partake of an excellent dinner. 

On their return home our friends went to work with renewed 
vigor, and before dark the house was about ready for occupancy. 
If there was anything lacking for their comfort, the family were 
willing to submit to the inconvenience for the sake of being 
settled. 

Doctor Archer visited one or two stores in the afternoon and 
purchased such things as were needed at once to begin house- 
keeping. 

Before a week had elapsed the Virginians, with some help 
from their neighbors, had become comfortably settled and were 
beginning to feel at home. The doctor bought a good horse, a 
cow with a calf at her side, a mule, several shoats and a number 
of fowls. 

A small spring wagon and some farming implements left 
by the doctor’s late tenant, came in very useful just at this time. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


43 


With the mule, bought for his special use, Jim was soon hard 
at work. He plowed the garden and planted it according to his 
instructions from Mrs. Archer, and afterwards went to work 
preparing a field for corn. In planting the grain he was assisted 
by Tom and Ned, and the lads seemed happy at their new 
employment. 


CHAPTER SIX 


THE BOYS MAKE A FRIEND 

One afternoon some two or three weeks after the arrival of 
our friends in Georgia, Doctor Archer, with his two boys, was 
sitting upon the piazza. They were having a little chat while 
waiting for the ringing of the bell to call them to the evening 
meal. 

Coming down the street was a man who appeared to be walk- 
ing somewhat unsteadily. Arriving opposite to where the father 
and sons were sitting, he turned, and advancing to the fence, 
introduced himself as follows: 

“Good evenin’ to you ens. My name is Sam MacDonnel, and 
we uns lives jes below here. Ef you ens wants eny cyarpenter 
work done, give me a call.” 

“I have nothing just at present,” the doctor replied politely, 
“but if I need anything in your line, I will call upon you.” 

“All right,” said MacDonnel. “We uns lives jes below the 
‘hanted house’ yander, an’ ef you ens wants eny work done, jes 
send one o’ them boys fur me.” 

At the mention of a haunted house, Tom and Ned were all 
attention, hoping to hear something more about it. Their father, 
however, who frowned upon all tales of haunted houses, ghosts 
and the like, quickly started another subject by inquiring of Mac- 
Donnel : 

“Do you know how to raise peanuts?” 

“You ens means goober peas,” corrected Sam. “Well, ef eny 
body knows, we uns does,” he concluded boastfully. 

Next he proceeded, to the great amusement of the lads, to tell 
their father how to plant and raise peanuts. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


45 


“You ens first takes the fresh goobers and hulls em, but don’t 
break the skins on the kurnel. Put three kurnels in a hill, an’ 
when they comes up, an’ the leaves gits to be bout ez big ez 
possum yeers, kiver em over with dirt, an’ the vines will have 
goobers on em too. You ens will know when they air dun 
growin’ by the vines gittin’ wilty.” 

The doctor was about asking for some further information 
respecting the raising of peanuts, when Sam, suddenly straight- 
ened himself up, and making a comical attempt to look sober, 
said : 

“My old ’oman seems toe be cornin’ this way. She gits mighty 
onreasonable at times, specially ef we uns has had a drap or two. 
We uns ’ill move on now.” 

MacDonnel was quite a character in his way, but was by no 
means what is generally termed “a bad man.” His one fault 
was taking “a drap or two” too much, and at such times he was 
shy of meeting his wife. 

On all occasions he was inclined to have a great deal to say, 
but more especially when he had looked too frequently upon his 
favorite corn juice. 

Barring this unfortunate habit, he was a good citizen, a kind 
and obliging neighbor, and was ever ready to lend his help to 
those about him. 

It was not many weeks before he became very much attached 
to Tom and Ned, and they were with him whenever they could 
find time from their tasks or play. 

The doctor, thinking that no harm was likely to come to the 
lads from their association with Sam, placed but one restriction 
upon them. They were never to go hunting, fishing or elsewhere 
with him when he was under the influence of liquor. 

He was a good workman and owned a nice little home. Near 
the house was his workshop, in which the boys passed much time, 
especially upon rainy days. 


46 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


There he showed them how to make many useful things, or 
seated upon the work bench, pipe in mouth, he discoursed upon 
a variety of topics in which his listeners were interested. 

The boys settled themselves upon a tool chest, or perched upon 
some steps that led to a loft above, and were then ready to listen 
as long as their friend chose to talk. 

Now and then they interrupted him to ask a question about 
something which they did not understand. The explanation 
wlould be given and the narrative was then resumed. 

The lads had heard from Sam! the history of the haunted 
house and other thrilling anecdotes of ghosts and spooks. These 
he most solemnly declared he had encountered at different times 
and places upon dark nights when returning home. 

Sam’s wife, Betty, coming into the shop upon one occasion 
when he was telling the boys about a spook he had seen, stopped 
a moment or two to' listen. 

“The only sperits Sam ever seed,” she chudkled, “was them 
he had in a bottle, fer when he gits them inter his head he kin 
imagine all sorts of things.” 

For a while this statement of Betty’s almost shook the faith 
the boys had in Sam’s stories. Yet, when he charged his wife 
in presence of his young friends of being afraid to go by the 
“hanted house” at night, and she admitted it, their confidence 
Was fully restored. 

In the early part of our story we spoke of Doctor Perker. 
This gentleman had for some years been practicing medicine in 

D . He was now desirous of giving up work and moving to 

the country, where he owned a small plantation. 

Not long after his arrival in town, Doctor Archer was called 
upon by his brother physician, who was anxious to make some 
arrangement for retiring from his practice. 

The greatest objection the former had to the work was the 
trouble that his wound still gave him, especially when attempting 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


47 


to ride on horseback. He thought it best to mention this fact 
before entering into an agreement. 

“That need not cause you the slightest worry at all,” assured 
Dbctor Perker. “I rarely ever have a call from the country 
now, and as many people of this section are refugeeing, your 
work would not be very heavy.” 

“It is indeed kind upon your part,” said Doctor Archer, “to 
offer me what practice you have. I do not wish to stand in the 
way of your going to the country for a rest, and if you think 
your patients will not object, you may consider the matter as 
settled.” 

“I thank you very much indeed,” Doctor Perker replied, “and 
as far as my patients are concerned, I think you may make your- 
self perfectly easy upon that subject. No doubt, many of them 
will welcome a change, and be glad to employ a younger man 
than myself.” 

“How is your supply of medicine?” inquired Doctor Archer. 
“Have you a pretty good stock on hand?” 

“I regret to say, I have not,” returned the other. “However, 
I have some business to attend to in Atlanta, and had thought of 
going there the day after to-morrow. Mr. Breese has a good 
spring wagon with a top, and if your horse will work with mine, 
we will go down one day and return the next. You can then 
purchase what you need.” 

“That will suit me exactly,” agreed Doctor Archer. “My wife 
needs a number of things for the house which it will be impos- 
sible to obtain in this place. Our visit to Atlanta will afford an 
opportunity of getting what we need very badly just now.” 

Having settled these affairs to their mutual satisfaction, the 
gentlemen separated. Doctor Perker had been invited to remain 
to tea, but excused himself upon the plea of having a number 
of matters to attend to before leaving home. 


48 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The next evening at the supper table, the doctor, who had 
already informed his wife of his intention, told the children that 
he proposed to make a visit to Atlanta the following day. 

According to his usual custom, when contemplating a trip of 
this character, he asked each member of the family what he 
should bring them upon his return from the city. 

“Oh, father; please bring us a goat,” begged Ned. Sam says 
he will make us a wagon if we get one.” 

“How do you suppose I could bring a goat back with me, my 
boy?” asked the doctor. 

“Couldn’t you hitch it behind the wagon?” inquired Tom, 
whose knowledge of goats was very limited. 

“Perhaps I could,” the father replied, “but how do we know 
that it would be able to follow for such a distance. Thirty miles 
would be more than it could stand.” 

Seeing that his reply had caused both the boys to look so much 
disappointed, the doctor promised, if possible, to bring them a 
goat on his return from Atlanta. 

With this promise they were obliged to be satisfied, but as 
soon as they were done their supper they slipped out to the 
kitchen to hold a council with the negro boy Jim. The lads had 
learned by this time that this black fellow knew' a great deal 
more than they had at first given him credit for. 

To their delight they were told that most goats would follow 
behind a wagon with very little trouble. With this information 
they did not fail to acquaint their father, just before retiring. 
They were fearful that he might be gone the next morning be- 
fore they were astir. 

Their fears, it seems, were not without foundation, for when 
they hurried to the sitting room, only a little while after day- 
light to mention the goat, they learned that their father was 
already upon his way to the city. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


49 


There was then nothing left them but to While away the time 
as agreeably as possible until he returned. The conversation of 
the youngsters at the breakfast table showed very plainly that 
unless they had something to draw their minds from the subject 
of the goat they would think and talk of nothing else for 
two days. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 


THE HAUNTED HOUSE 

In order that the time might not hang so heavily upon the 
hands of the lads, Mrs. Archer gave them some light tasks to 
occupy their minds the first day of her husband’s absence. 

The next morning she granted them permission to take a stroll 
up about the court-house and make the acquaintance of any boys 
they should happen to meet, and also learn something of the 
town. 

This style of recreation being very agreeable to our young 
friends, they were not slow in taking advantage of it. They 
first visited the court-house. Next they went to the big white 
tavern and spent about an hour chasing each other from room 
to room. 

Lair’s tavern was third upon their list, and after a while spent 
there, the boys crossed over to a bowling alley in the grove. 

No one was in this place, and the brothers on looking around 
discovered half dozen balls and some pins that had been left 
lying about. The alley was in good condition, and the boys 
decided to try their skill at bowling. 

The pins were quickly set up, and Tom and Ned were soon 
rolling away as merrily as did Rip Van Winkle with the little 
men of the Kaatskill Mountains. 

Washington Irving tells us in his sketch book that that unfortu- 
nate Dutchman partook too freely of Holland gin, which threw 
him into a twenty years’ sleep. No such misfortune befell the lads 
from Virginia, and they were very wide awake when they were 
ready to quit their sport. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


5i 


By this time they were feeling hungry, for it was nearly mid- 
day, and bowling had in no wise dulled the edge of their appe- 
tites. They put away the balls and pins and went home to get 
some dinner. 

In the afternoon they concluded to go and pass a while with 
Sam MacDonnel, and as it would not be out of their w i ay, they 
thought it a good idea to take a look about the haunted house. 

The building which bore this unenviable title stood somewhat 
off the road. It was included in the property belonging to Doctor 
Archer, and w;as situated in the grove not a great distance from 
his home. At this time it was untenanted and had been for a 
year or more. 

The last occupants of the house were an aged and childless 
couple who, according to popular rumor, had come from East 
Tennessee. They seemed to want for nothing, for they pur- 
chased freely and made no debts. 

The old folks were very close concerning their own affairs, 
and nothing definite was ever learned about them. That they 
lived a cat and dog life, was generally admitted, for day or 
night, those who passed that way heard them quarrelling. 

One morning, probably two* years before the arrival of Doctor 
Archer and his family in the town, MacDonnel and his wife 
were at breakfast, when the latter said : 

“Sam, them folks from Tennessee did not open their house 
all day yistiddy or the day befo.” 

“I wonder what kin be the matter ?” asked Sam. 

“Thar sholy air sumthin’ wrong,” returned Betty. 

Sam had more than his rightful share of curiosity, and he 
inwardly determined that as soon as his breakfast was over he 
would look into matters. 

The moment he rose from the table he put on his hat and 
sallied forth upon his tour of investigation. 

Sam had not a great distance to go, and in a few minutes 


52 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


after leaving home he was knocking very loudly at the door of 
his neighbors. 

No sign of response whatever was elicited by his rapping and 
he called to the folks, whom he supposed were within. Still 
no reply. He now walked two or three times round the building, 
but nothing could be seen or heard that would indicate the pres- 
ence of the man or his wife. 

These folks owned a few fowls which were now peeking 
hungrily about the ground, back of the house. A cat with a half- 
starved look ran to Sam, mewing pitifully, and rubbing herself 
against his ankles. 

A water bucket on a shelf at the back door was not only 
empty, but very dry. Everything about the premises showed 
plainly that the tenants were gone, or were sick and helpless 
within. Our friend had no suspicion of the true state of affairs. 

By this time Sam had resolved to wait no longer, but to get 
inside if possible, and if the couple were in distress to render 
them what aid they might need. He could not think that they 
had left the town without notifying some one of their intention. 

Having made up his mind to get into the house, he went round 
to the front and tried the door, but his trials in this direction 
were fruitless. His next attempt was made at the rear door, 
which finally yielded to his efforts after much pushing with his 
shoulder. 

No sooner had Sam stepped inside the kitchen, than he saw 
at a glance that no fire had been kindled upon the hearth for 
some time. Pausing for a moment to look about him, our curious 
friend then passed into the room adjoining. 

From the first it was too dark in the room for him to dis- 
tinguish objects clearly, and he raised the curtain of the one 
window to let in the light. 

The bright sunshine of the morning fell athwart the high, old- 
fashioned bed in the corner. Sam gave one terrified glance in 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


53 


that direction, and the sight which met his gaze almost chilled 
the blood within his veins. Giving one startled cry, he fled from 
the room as if pursued by fiends. 

Never afterwards could he recall how he got from the house. 
He recovered somewhat before reaching home. Meeting Betty 
at the door, he cried with trembling voice: 

“Oh, Lordy ! ole ’oman, what a awful thing I seed jes now. 
Gim me some licker quick 1” 

Betty knew by Sam’s manner that he was not “playing 
possum,” so she gave him a stiff drink of corn whiskey from a 
bottle kept in the cupboard. 

This settled his nerves, and he was able after a time to tell 
his story. No wonder he was startled, for Sam told his wife 
that the old wom'an from East Tennessee was lying upon the 
bed, in the house in the grove, with her throat cut from ear 
to ear. 

Strictly enjoining Betty to say nothing to the neighbors of 
what he had seen, Sam went up town and reported the murder 
to a magistrate. 

A jury was summoned and an inquest was held at once. The 
verdict rendered was that “the woman met her death at the 
hands of her husband, who had escaped to parts unknown.” 

The few things found in the house were disposed of by an 
officer of the law, and the proceeds went to defray the expense 
of the old woman’s burial. 

We regret to say that the murderer was never apprehended, 
for he had ample time to get away before his awful deed became 
known. The scene of the murder was visited by scores of 
curious folks, and the story soon got abroad that the place was 
haunted. 

Tom and Ned had heard this terrible tale from their friend 
Sam, but they had no fears in visiting the house. 

Speaking boldly as he stepped upon the piazza, Ned said: 


54 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Tom, I am not afraid of anything in this place, are you?” 

“What is there to be afraid of?” asked Tom. “If there are 
any ghosts, they would not show themselves in the day time any- 
how, so we need not expect to meet them, now.” 

Just as Tom concluded this remark, his brother seized him by 
the arm and with voice quivering, exclaimed : 

“Listen to that noise. Just as sure as you’re born, there is 
some one groaning. Maybe it’s the old woman’s ghost.” 

“Oh, you only imagine that,” replied Tom. 

The lad had scarcely finished speaking when, sure enough, a 
sound resembling a groan was heard. Tom turned, and for a 
moment looked closely at his brother. 

“You were right after all,” he acknowledged. “There is some 
one there.” 

“I will go in if you will,” bantered Ned. 

“All right,” agreed Tom, “but don’t have any fooling about it.” 

“You are the oldest and should go first,” said Ned artfully. 

Tom was ashamed to appear afraid, so he pushed the door 
open gently, and peeped into the room. Seeing nothing at all, he 
ventured a little farther. Then, in a spirit of mischief, Ned gave 
his brother a push, which sent him sprawling upon the floor. 

Tom sprang quickly to his feet, and was preparing to rush at 
Ned, when the latter cried at the top of his voice: 

“Lookout, Tom; there comes the ghost!” 

The lad had barely time to glance behind him when out from 
the kitchen rushed the largest goat that the boys from Virginia 
had ever seen. 

It was indeed a big goat, and of that gender facetiously termed 
“William Goat.” This animal was known to the youngsters of 
the town as “Tazewell’s Big Billy Goat.” 

Had he been let alone Billy might have grown up to be a 
peaceful and law-abiding goat. Pie had, however, been so teased 
and tormented by every boy who met him, that at the time our 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


55 

young friends made his acquaintance it required very little to 
put him in a fighting humor. 

With head down and hair bristling upon his neck, he rushed at 
Tom Archer, who stood not upon the order of his going, but fled 
percipitately. 

The big goat charged fiercely upon the lad, and Ned sought 
safety upon one of the window sills. There he was out of dan- 
ger, and as his brother fled for dear life, he saluted him with an 
aggravating laugh. 

“All right, old boy, Til pay you for this,” yelled Tom, as he 
put forth every effort to escape his pursuer. 

“You’ll find me here when you get through with Mister Goat,” 
shouted Ned with another laugh. 

Ned was speaking in fun, of course, but it afterwards proved 
anything else but a joke for him. 

Old Billy had left several other goats of his flock in the 
kitchen when pursuing Tom Archer, and after a short run he 
came back to the house. 

Climbing the steps of the piazza, he spied Ned upon the win- 
dow sill, and being in no hurry, he lay down where he could 
watch the boy, and at the same time keep guard over his family. 
He seemied perfectly contented as matters stood. 

Ned was in an awkward situation, and it was now Tom’s turn 
to have some fun at his brother’s expense. He came just near 
enough to the piazza to be out of the goat’s reach and cried 
mockingly : 

“You promised to be here when I got through with Mister 
Goat. I am glad to see that you are such a truthful fellow. 
Won’t you step down here a while?” 

Ned begged his brother to coax the goat away, but Tom was 
obdurate, and the lad upon the window sill was beginning to 
feel desperate, when he heard some one singing: 


56 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“My ole mistus promised me, 

When she died, she’d sot me free; 

Now ole mistus dead an’ gone, 

Lef dis nigger hoein’ in de cawn.” 

This was Jim coming down the road, entertaining himself with 
a song. When the negro boy came near enough to observe Ned’s 
predicament, he said, with a broad grin wreathing his ebony 
countenance : 

“Well, Mister Willum Goat, what fo you done tree dat boy?” 

“Oh, Jim, please get him away,” entreated Ned. 

By this time the goat had risen and was trying to get at the 
youngster upon the window sill. Fearing that the lad might 
fall from his narrow perch and be hurt by the angry goat, Jim 
picked up a stick and drove the animal away. 

Their adventure with Old Billy left the boys without further 
desire to look through the “haunted house.” Jim had been sent 
some distance beyond Sam MacDonnel’s on an errand, and Tom 
and Ned accompanied him that far upon his way. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


THE DOCTOR'S RETURN 

It was almost dark when the lads reached home after a pleasant 
visit to their friend Sam, but they were much disappointed to 
find that their father had not yet returned from the city. 

They first had supper, and then went out to the big kitchen 
to find some amusement to help them pass the hours until time to 
go to bed. 

Aunt Lucy was seated at one side of the big fire-place in a low 
chair enjoying her evening smoke. Her pipe was made from a 
corncob, and a reed from the cane-brake, at the far end of the 
plantation answered for a stem. 

Jim was upon the other side of the fire-place, and when the 
boys entered the kitchen he was laughing at Liz, who had fallen 
from a stool, upon which she had been nodding first one way 
and then another. 

The lads had heard several tales of ghosts that afternoon at 
Sam MacDonnel’s, and the moment Tom had seated himself 
upon a bench, he opened the subject by asking: 

“Aunt Lucy, do you believe in ghosts ?” 

“Deed honey, I does, sho nuf,” responded the old woman. 

“Did you ever see any ghosts ?” Tom ventured next. 

“Can’t dezactly say I ebber seed any ghostes myself,” replied 
Aunt Lucy, “but I knows of pussons what say dey has seed a 
whole passel of dem !” 

“What do you suppose ghosts look like, Aunt Lucy?” inquired 
Ned slyly. 


58 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Why, I spose dey looks jes lak ghostes,” the old woman inno- 
cently replied. 

At this moment a loud shout of laughter from Jim interrupted 
the conversation. Liz had again tumbled off her stool and 
bumped her head soundly. 

Aunt Lucy gave her a scolding, and the girl then took her 
seat upon the floor in front of the fire-place. Here she prepared 
to listen to what might be said, while Jim, to give her a good 
scare, commenced telling about an encounter he had had with a 
ghost one night in Tennessee. 

At the conclusion of Jim’s exciting story, Liz, with eyes 
almost popping from her head, said fearfully : 

“You had better quit tellin’ dem big lies, caze Marse Tom he 
don’t low dem boys to be hearin’ no sich yarns. Sides dat,” she 
resumed, “I’se skeered nearly out o’ my hide, an’ I’m fred to go 
to baid. I’ll jis be seein’ ghoses all de time.” 

Before any reply could be made to this, Mrs. Archer came out 
to the kitchen and told the boys it was time for them, to retire. 

Aunt Lucy and Jim were to remain up a while longer, as the 
doctor might yet return. He would need Jim’s help with the 
horses, and would probably want some supper. 

Every effort was made by the boys to keep awake after going 
to bed, for they still hoped that their father would get back 
before they were asleep. They were very anxious to see what 
he had brought them, but their eyes became heavy, and in half 
an hour they were fast asleep. 

The lads had been in the land of dreams an hour or more 
when their father arrived. He had taken supper with Doctor 
Perker, whose family was just sitting down to the table when 
the two gentlemen drove up. 

Jim was told to run the wagon under a shed and put both 
horses in the stable until morning. Having given the negro boy 
some further orders, the doctor went into the house. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


59 


He was completely worn out, and remained up only long 
enough to relate to Mrs. Archer some of the most important 
incidents of his journey. 

If Tom and Ned did not rise with the lark next morning it 
was because they had remained out of bed far beyond their cus- 
tomary hour for retiring. When they did awake, they sprang 
from their beds and commenced donning their garments with all 
possible haste. 

With all their hurry, the boys were not fully dressed when 
they stole quietly into the hall, to discover, if they could, any 
signs of their father’s return. 

Ned, who was in the lead, whispered softly to his brother: 

“It is all right, Tom, for here are a lot of things that father 
brought from Atlanta.” 

“Come on, then,” said Tom, “let’s go and ask Jim if there were 
any signs of a goat.” 

Getting out of the hall with as little noise as possible, the boys 
hurried away to Jim’s quarters. But the negro boy was not to be 
found. 

He had gone to take home the horse belonging to Doctor 
Penker. The lads were informed of this fact by Aunt Lucy, 
whom they met coming from the kitchen on her way to the well. 

“We needn’t wait for Jim,” remarked Tom, “we’ll take a look 
around for ourselves.” 

The boys then went to the stable, and from there to the vacant 
quarters in their search. Failing to find what they sought at 
either of these places, they thought it was useless to look further, 
and started for the house. 

Just as the lads were about to enter the yard, they were sur- 
prised to hear a noise in the carriage house, resembling that made 
by pigs, running upon a plank floor. They stood listening for a 
moment, when a soft bleating sound reached their ears. Surely 
that must have been a young goat. 


6o 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Pausing just long enough to hear a repetition of the cry, the 
youngsters set off in a run towards the building. Ned being 
fleeter than his brother, reached the place first, and threw open 
the door. 

The surprise and delight of the boys may be imagined, for, 
in the carriage house tied to a piece of studding was a goat, 
while standing near her were two kids. 

The young goats found they were not molested, and they 
began to frisk and frolic all about the floor. So much pleased 
were the boys, by the lively little fellows, that they could scarcely 
take time to eat their breakfast. 

Doctor Archer felt amply repaid for the small cost of the 
goats, and what trouble they had given, when Tom and Ned 
thanked him so heartily for the present. 

The doctor saw the goats at a house upon the road to Atlanta, 

about five miles from D . They were the property of an 

aged son of Erin. He readily agreed to part with them for a 
small sum of money, upon the condition that the purchaser throw 
in two plugs of tobacco. 

This article was both scarce and dear at that time, but the 
doctor knew he could buy it in Atlanta, so he agreed to the 
terms. The owner of the goats upon his part bargained to have 
them ready for delivery upon the return of our friend from 
Atlanta. 

In the evening the gentlemen reached the old man’s house on 
their way back from the city, to find him impatiently awaiting 
their coming. Doctor Archer gave him, in addition to the price 
agreed upon, not two, but half a dozen plugs of the precious 
Virginia weed. 

With fine Irish brogue, the grateful old soul thanked him, 
and prayed that Heaven’s choicest blessings might descend upon 
the doctor and those who were dear to him. 

The “nanny” goat, as she was called, was fastened to the rear 

















t 
























utM 









# 


*1 


psh 

ff* 


Aunt Lucy Enjoys a Smoke. 










THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


61 


of the wagon by a bit of rope, and the kids were put in a box 
having a couple of strips nailed across the top. The box was 
put in the back part of the wagon, and the old goat followed with- 
out any trouble. 

The first time Sam McDonnel came that way he was called in 
to see and admire the goats. He promised the boys that as 
soon as the kids were large enough to be worked he would make 
for them a wagon and a yoke. 

The lads were very anxious to have harness for their team 
and the doctor had said, that upon the first opportunity, he would 
have a set made for them. 

As matters afterwards turned out, the goats were trained to 
work under a yoke a long time, before the harness was secured. 
Leather was scarce, and hard to obtain at any price. 

Tom and Ned Were not the only recipients of presents upon 
the doctor’s return from the city. Mrs. Archer received a num- 
ber of things much needed about the home, and Mary was made 
happy by being presented with a large wax doll and a new dress. 

Aunt Lucy got some bright red handkerchiefs for her head, a 
dress, a new pipe, and a plentiful supply of smoking tobacco. 
Liz also received a dress or two. 

Jim, though sadly needing them, was much surprised when he 
was handed a suit of clothes, several shirts and a pair of strong 
shoes. 

“Marse Tom,” said the negro boy, in a grateful tone, “Jim 
berry tankful for dese tings, but I’se done nuffin’ to pay fo’ 
dem.” 

“That is all right, Jim,” replied the doctor. “You have com- 
menced well, and I have given you this small present, to show 
you that I appreciate your industry and good conduct.” 

On the following Sunday the delighted negro boy donned his 
newly acquired finery, and proudly displayed it before the admir- 
ing eyes of a certain yellow damsel, who lived at Colonel Hall’s 
quarters. 


CHAPTER NINE 


TOM AND NED ENTER SCHOOL 

Fully a month had now passed since our friends, the Archers, 
had said goodbye to old Virginia, and as the days went by they 
became more and mlore attached to their new home in Georgia. 

So far everything had progressed smoothly, but the doctor 
sometimes recalled the conversation which took place between 
Colonel Hall and himself upon the morning of his arrival in 
D . 

This conversation, it will be remembered, related particularly 
to the position of Sherman’s army and the likelihood of its ad- 
vance upon the town some time within the next two or three 
months. 

It w'as now the beginning of April, and there were frequent 
rumors of the coming of the Federals. Up to the present time, 
General Johnston had been able to hold them in check at Dalton. 

Upon the occasion of his recent visit to Atlanta, Doctor Archer 
found the city entirely free from that excitement that is gen- 
erally caused by a war. Save for the fact that the major part of 
the male population over twenty-one years of age was away in 
the army and that business was dull, everything seemed to be 
moving along about in the usual manner. 

At this time there were two large Confederate forces in the 
field. Lee in Virginia, on the Rapidan, and Johnston at Dalton, 
in northern Georgia. The people who lived in the vicinity of 
Atlanta felt no special uneasiness, but continued to transact busi- 
ness as in the past. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


63 


Doctor Perker had spoken of many persons leaving D 

and its neighborhood. This was true, but those who had refu- 
geed left town some time in February. They had been fright- 
ened away by reports of the battles around Dalton. 

On account of the rather unsettled state of affairs, Doctor 
Archer had hesitated about sending his boys to school. Meeting 
Colonel Hall one morning, he inquired : 

“Do you think, colonel, that it would be worth while to send 
my boys to school at this time?” 

“I do indeed,” answered the colonel, “for even if we should 
be invaded by Sherman’s army, it may be some time before it 
reaches this point.” 

“Your idea is, then, that we shall be upon the line of the army’s 
march,” said the doctor anxiously. 

“There can scarcely be any doubt of it,” replied the colonel, 
“for this would be the natural route to Atlanta, and the capture 
of that city is certainly one of the objective points of the North 
at present. At the same time,” continued he, “we will trust that its 
downfall is far distant.” 

Doctor Archer did not let much time pass after his conversa- 
tion with the colonel before making arrangements to send his 
boys to school. In fact, they had already lost considerable time 
from their studies, and he was very anxious that they should 
begin their work at school at once. 

There were but two schools in the town, and one of these was 
intended only for small children. Tom and Ned were soon 
entered at the other, which was very favorably spoken of by those 
who patronized it. 

In the early part of 1863 there had come from the Powder 
Springs neighborhood a Mr. Bidwell. Accompanying the gen- 
tleman and his wife was a sister of the latter, Miss Burton. 

One of Doctor Archer’s houses was vacant at this time and 
was rented by Mr. Bidwell, and he and his sister-in-law opened 


6 4 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


a private school in a building, at the southern end of town. This 
house was the property of some gentleman who had refugeed at 
the first report# of Sherman’s coming. 

The strangers had been very fortunate in the selection of a 
place for their work. It had ample shade, good water and 
spacious grounds, and was admirably fitted for school purposes. 

There had been no one to consult as to taking possession of 
it, and knowing that it would be better for being occupied, Mr. 
Bidwell concluded that he would be doing the owner a great 
favor by opening his school therein. 

Irresponsible youngsters about town had already been using 
its windows as targets and practicing marksmanship upon the 
doors. They considered it glorious sport to knock out several 
of the panes at one throw, and the noise of falling and shattered 
glass was sweet music to their ears. 

Mr. Bidwell's idea, as to the protection of the building, proved 
correct. No sooner had he moved in than it was noticed that all 
onslaughts upon the dwelling ceased entirely. No further damage 
was done to the windows until after the army came and the 
school was broken up. The soldiers then very effectively com- 
pleted the work which thoughtless lads had commenced. 

The Archer boys entered the school about the second Monday 
in April. They took with them several books, which they had 
used in Virginia, and these they found came in very well. Tom 
entered Mr. BidweH’s class, while Ned was enrolled as one of 
Miss Burton’s pupils. There were nearly seventy boys and girls 
in attendance, and the time of each teacher was fully occupied. 

On Sunday, following the entrance of the brothers at school, 
they were invited by Sam MacDonnel to go with him to a bap- 
tizing. This was something new to the lads, and they were eager 
to accompany their friend. 

The doctor gave his consent, with the understanding that they 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 65 

were to stay with Sam, and behave themselves as the solemnity 
of the occasion demanded. 

The ceremony, which the boys were going to witness, they 
were told, would take place near an old mill situated a mile or 
or so from town. This building, for some reason not generally 
known, had fallen into disuse for many years past. 

The baptizings were usually conducted at a point several yards 
above the breast of the dam, where the water was of the proper 
depth, and where a good footing could be secured. 

Before Sam MacDonnel had finished his dinner, on the day 
of the baptizing, Tom and Ned were calling at his gate, eager 
to be off. Sam did not keep the lads waiting very long, and they 
reached the mill all in good time. 

There they found a large number of men, women and children 
assembled about the banks of the dam, impatiently waiting for 
the service to begin. 

Father Russell, the good old Baptist preacher, came out from 
the mill, where he had gone to make some change in his apparel. 
He invited those who wished to be baptized to come forward. 
A hymn was then given out, and while it was being sung nearly 
a dozen persons presented themselves for the ceremony. 

The minister now stepped down into the water, leading with 
him one of those who was to be admitted to his flock by the rite 
of baptism. 

The proper point being reached, the singing ceased, the solemn 
words accompanying the ordinance of the church were spoken 
and the im'mersion followed. One after another was dipped 
beneath the water until all had been baptized. 

The service was concluded with another hymn and the offering 
up of a prayer. To Tom and Ned Archer, who had never 
before witnessed a similar ceremony, the scene was deeply im- 
pressive and they never forgot it. 

It was a beautiful day, and throughout the entire service all 


66 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


who were present had behaved quietly and with becoming rever- 
ence. The sinking sun cast its bright beams upon this aged 
servant of God, and lent to his countenance a look of inspiration. 

The preacher was just preparing to step out upon the bank, 
when a shriek rang out, startling every one in the assembly. This 
was followed by a loud splash in the water, and the people were 
seen running excitedly toward a certain point near the dam. 

During the summer the boys from town frequently came to 
this place to bathe. They had fixed a spring-board from which 
to dive. This piece of timber extended several feet over the 
water and was about a foot in width. 

A number of boys and girls had ventured, rather recklessly, 
upon the board to see what was going on. There was no danger, 
so long as they remained quiet, but when the ceremony was over 
they started with a rush for the shore. 

This caused the timber to spring up and down, and one small 
girl, who was upon the end nearest the water, was thrown a 
few feet into the air. Down she came, with a blood-curdling 
shriek, and plunged head foremost into the mill dam, in the very 
deepest part. 

Most boys about D went barefoot in the summer. In 

fact, many of them during the war had no shoes at all. Tom 
Archer had come to the baptizing, like the rest of the lads, wear- 
ing neither coat nor shoes. 

The moment he saw the girl disappear beneath the water he 
threw off his hat and sprang into the dam after her. 

Tom was a splendid swimmer, and as the child did not struggle, 
he quickly brought her ashore. She was taken in charge by her 
parents and soon revived, but when they sought the rescuer of 
their girl to thank him he was not to be found. 

Tom had left with his brother and Sam for home, and had it 
not afterwards been mentioned by others the lad would soon have 
forgotten the incident entirely. 


CHAPTER TEN 


A BAD CITIZEN 

In September, 1863, when Tim Bannon took up his residence 

in D , but few people were interested enough in the man to 

inquire very closely into his antecedents. From statements made 
by himself, he was supposed to have been a planter from some 
part of Mississippi. 

He reached the suburbs of the town one evening, coming from 
the direction of Atlanta. It was about dusk when he halted and 
put up for the night at a house probably a quarter of a mile 
distant from the courthouse. 

This dwelling had not long since been vacated by its owner, 
and had, on account of its isolated position, remained without a 
tenant. The very fact of its being regarded as an undesirable 
place of residence at this time caused Bannon to look upon it as 
just what he wanted. 

He spent an hour walking about the grounds the morning after 
his arrival and then gave orders for unloading the wagons. 
While this was being done he sauntered up town to get ac- 
quainted. Tim Bannon made friends easily when it suited his 
purpose, as it did just at this time. 

The wife of this self-styled planter was a refined and timid 
little lady. Many weary hours she and her twelve-year-old 
daughter, Laurie, spent in the lonely old house on the Atlanta 
road. 

That Bannon was possessed of some means, was evident from 
the fact, that though he engaged in no business at first, he lived 
in good style. 


68 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


With a desire to establish himself in the eyes of the people as 
something besides an idler, he decided to open a store for the 
sale of dry goods and groceries, but no liquors. 

Taking with him two of his wagons, he went to Atlanta and 
brought back a very fair assortment of merchandise. Before 
going to the city he had rented the storeroom belonging to Doctor 
Archer, and it was not long before he had won a good share of 
the patronage of the citizens. 

One afternoon Tom Archer was passing the store, on his way 
from school, when he was called by the merchant. The lad 
obeyed the summons, and stepping inside, waited for Bannon to 
speak. 

“How would you like to help me in the store of evenings on 
school days, and all day Saturday?” he inquired. 

“I should like it very much,” Tom answered, “but I am not 
sure that my father will allow me to come.” 

The merchant had taken notice of the boy as he passed on his 
way to and from the school, and was highly pleased with his 
appearance. 

“I will try and see your father this evening,” he said, “and if 
he has no objection you may come at once. I need the help of 
some one in the store, especially on Saturdays.” 

Bannon called after supper to see the doctor, who, knowing 
how anxious the boy was to go into the store, gave his consent. 
So far as any one knew at this time, Bannon was a very respect- 
able and worthy citizen. 

Tom was pleased with his work and did not find his duties at 
all irksome. Each night at closing time Bannon would have his 
clerk look after the rear doors and windows, and see to it that 
everything was made safe about the store. 

Both wtrnld then come out the front way, and after locking 
the door and saying good-night, would go upon their respective 
ways. The merchant carried one key with him. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


69 


The lad, of course, went directly home, and he never once 
suspected that his employer did otherwise. He knew of no 
reason that Bannon could have for returning to the building after 
it had been closed for the night. 

The first duty our young friend performed in the morning, 
after opening the store, was dusting the counters. The sweeping 
was always attended to at night just before the time for closing. 

Upon the first Saturday morning of his employment with 
Bannon, the young clerk, while dusting one of the counters, 
noticed thereon several empty pickle bottles and sardine boxes. 

Scattered here and there were cracker crumbs and bits of 
cheese. Evidently some one had been feasting the night before. 
Four glasses, which smelled of liquor, proved that drinking, as 
well as eating, had been indulged in. 

From the signs before him, the lad naturally concluded that 
the store had been visited during the previous night. He felt 
sure that no one could enter without a key. But who had used 
it? This was a question that Tom could not answer just then. 

Our young friend determined to say nothing to Bannon for a 
wlhile. He cleared away the boxes and bottles and went about 
his duties as usual. 

Being a prudent fellow, he thought it best to keep his own 
counsel, and as Saturday was a busy day, he dismissed the 
matter from his mind. He would wait for a more convenient 
time to investigate the affair. 

On his way home that evening, Tom met his brother not far 
from the store. He noticed a book in Ned’s hand, and inquired 
what he was doing with it. 

“I am to take this to Miss Breese,” said Ned, “and you are to 
go with me.” 

“All right,” replied Tom, “let us hurry along, for I am tired 
and sleepy and want to get to bed.” 

Ned was just as anxious for sleep as his brother, and off they 


70 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


went, at a brisk pace, through the grove. Taking a short route 
by way of the town spring, the brothers were only a few moments 
upon their way. 

There was no answer to be waited for, and the errand was 
quickly done. Saying good-night to Mr. Breese, they started 
upon their return. Ned was in the humor for chatting, but Tom 
felt drowsy and gave rather short replies to his brother’s ques- 
tions. 

The lad’s mind was fixed on other things, for he was thinking 
about what he had seen at the store that morning, and did not 
feel like talking. 

The boys were just about passing from among the last oaks, 
which formed that portion of the grove nearest the street. 

Suddenly, Tom was roused from his thoughts by a nudge from 
his brother, who cautiously whispered : 

“Look there, Tom, do you see those men coming from the bar- 
room ?” 

“Yes, I see them,” Tom responded listlessly. “What have we 
to do with them, I should like to' know ?” 

“Don’t you see who they are?” persisted Ned, eagerly. 

“How in the world do you expect me to know them in the 
dark?” asked Tom. 

“When the door opened, the light was shining out, and I saw 
Mr. Bannon and three other men,” explained Ned. 

“Did you see who the other men were?” 

“I only knew two of them, Bob Peyton and his brother, Jim. 
The other man was a stranger.” 

Where the lads were standing beneath the shade of the oaks, 
they were not observed by the men across the street. During 
the entire time the boys were engaged in their quiet talk, an 
animated discussion was taking place not far away from the door 
of the barroom. 

What the subject of this conversation was, the lads were un- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


7 1 


able to learn. Although the men seemed to be very much excited, 
they took care to talk in an undertone. 

But our friend Tom had already concluded that the meeting 
of these men had some connection with what he had lately seen 
at the store. 

He had shaken off some of his drowsiness, and when his em- 
ployer, with the other three, started across the street, the young- 
ster was wide awake. He spoke quietly to his brother: 

“Come on, Ned, let us see what they are going to do.” 

Softly the boys followed Bannon and his companions, taking 
care to keep some distance in the rear, so as not to be detected. 
The men reached the store, and the merchant was heard fumbling 
about the lock, in his efforts to find the keyhole. 

The door opened, the four men stepped inside the storeroom, 
and immediately the key was turned. All was very quiet, for a 
moment or two, and then the sound of shuffling feet reached the 
ears of the two boys. 

Nothing further was heard after this, and only a faint streak 
of light could be seen beneath the door. There seemed to be no 
chance of learning anything more at that time, and our young 
friends decided to go home. 

Tom requested his brother to keep perfectly quiet concerning 
what they had noticed that night, and in the meantime he would 
try to learn more of the affair. 

During the ensuing week Tom Archer arranged for his brother 
to meet him after he left the store each evening. The lad had 
fully made up his mind to find out what these nightly meetings 
in the store meant. He felt assured that anything but a good 
purpose was bringing these men together night after night. 

In order to keep out of sight of the men and obtain a good 
position for observation, the boys took their stand each evening 
at the corner of the courthouse. Here they kept watch upon the 
barroom and store at the same time. 


72 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


For two nights nothing was seen of Bannon or his compan- 
ions, but upon the third night the vigilance of the young detec- 
tives was rewarded. 

They had occupied their post for less than half an hour when 
the door of the barroom opened and Bannon and the men, who 
previously accompanied him, came out. The light falling upon 
the men, as it shone from the grocery, plainly showed who they 
were. 

In his hand Bannon bore a decanter full of brandy, and with- 
out stopping for a moment, he and his associates went directly 
to the store. 

Waiting only long enough for the men to get inside, the boys 
hurried across the street. They listened at the door, but could 
only hear a shuffling of feet and murmur of voices. 

Tom tried to find out something by peeping, but the shutters 
were solid and defied all his efforts in that direction. He was 
on the point of dropping the matter and going home, when he 
heard a loud jar within. This noise was followed by oaths and a 
trampling of feet about the floor. 

The boys were hesitating between a desire to stay and an incli- 
nation to run, when they heard a terrilble crash and the sound 
of breaking glass. It seemed as if a heavy vessel had been hurled 
across the room and shivered into a thousand pieces against the 
wall. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


TOM SAVES BOB PEYTON^ LIFE 

“My God, Tom; they are fighting in there, and some one will 
be killed !” shouted Ned excitedly. 

There was no doubt but what some one was fighting, as Ned 
had declared, for oaths both loud and fierce were heard and 
blows fell fast and furious. For a short time the battle within 
raged warmly, then all became still. 

How quiet everything seemed after the terrible din of a few 
moments before. The boys stood there, almost afraid to move, 
when they heard some one slowly turn the key to unlock the 
door. 

Without waiting to see who was coming out, they fled from 
the spot and ran as fast as their feet could carry them in the 
direction of home. 

Not a second did they lose, or have a thought of checking their 
speed until safe within their father’s yard. They went ’round to 
the well, where they found a couple of tubs of water, soap and 
towels. It w'as the custom of the boys to take a bath each even- 
ing before retiring. 

Tom remarked, as they were finishing up with a brisk rub- 
bing: 

“We will say nothing about this until Saturday. If father 
knew what we do, he would not let me stay here one day, and 
I think I can find out, by the last of the week, what was going on 
to-night.” 

“What do you suppose the men were doing, Tom? 


74 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Why, they were gambling. At first, I thought they were just 
playing for fun, but I am sure now they were playing for money. 
They probably got into a fight because they were drinking.” 

“If you think that, you had better stay away from there,” 
warned Ned, “for you don’t know what may happen. Those men 
might get into a fight while you were at the store.” 

“I’ll tell father Saturday night, after I get my week’s wages,” 
said Tom, who certainly had an eye to business. 

Upon week days Tom usually sent his books home by Ned 
and stayed at his work until time to go to his supper. He then 
came back, and except on Saturday nights, closed the store at 
nine o’clock. 

He could hardly wait for Mr. Bidwell to dismiss the school on 
Thursday, so anxious was he to get to the store. The moment 
he was out in the street, he handed Ned his books and hurried 
away. 

Being afraid that Bannon would notice something unusual in 
his manner, he stopped a moment before entering. He need not 
have worried himself on that score, for his employer’s mind was 
occupied with his own affairs. The only notice he took of the 
lad was to give him a curt nod as he walked past him. 

Tom busied himself with some goods, which he found on the 
counter. There was a bolt of cotton and two or three more of 
calico. These were carefully straightened and put back upon 
the shelves where they belonged. 

A lady came in the store while the boy was thus occupied and 
was waited upon by the merchant himself. 

“How in the world did you hurt your face, Mr. Bannon ?” 

The customer made this inquiry with her manner evincing 
great curiosity. Bannon writhed for a moment before replying. 
He then resorted to the following lie : 

“I took a short ride last night, and just before reaching home 
my horse got frightened at something near the side of the road. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


75 


I was thrown and bruised as you see. I should have been more 
careful, as I was riding a colt.” 

“I am very sorry, indeed,” the lady said sympathetically. “It 
could have been worse, though, for the animal might have dragged 
or kicked you. Your escape from death was providential.” 

Bannon was getting very restless, for he was suffering men- 
tally as w r ell as bodily, and he did not relish this talk about his 
battered face. 

To cut the matter short, he made no reply to the last remark, 
but asked bluntly : 

“Is there nothing else you wish to-day, madam?” 

“Nothing more, thank you,” was the reply. 

• Then taking the hint from the tone used by the merchant, the 
customer received her package, paid for it, and passed from the 
store without further remark. 

“Devil take the women,” growled Bannon, “they want to pry 
into everything, but what they ought to know.” 

Tom did not think it necessary to make any reply to this asser- 
tion, and Bannon said to the lad : 

“Archer, you go home and get your supper and return as soon 
as possible. I am not feeling well after my fall, and will not 
come back to the store to-night. Get your brother to stay with 
you, close up early and meet me here in the morning.” 

This arrangement was carried out, and when Tom joined his 
employer at the store next morning, the latter carried a double- 
barrelled shotgun. 

“You’ll have time to do the dusting this morning, I suppose,” 
observed Bannon as they entered the store. 

“Plenty of time,” returned the boy. 

Bannon set the gun in a small room at the rear of the store. 
He then hurried across the street to the barroom. 

Not a word had passed between the merchant and Tom Archer 
concerning the marks on the face of the former, but the lad knew 


76 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


that they had been inflicted by the Peyton brothers. The cause 
of the trouble, Tom learned the following day. 

Business was always brisk on Saturday, and the clerk and his 
employer were very busy all morning. Although there was no 
visible reason for it, Bannon’s manner, during the entire fore- 
noon, showed considerable uneasiness. 

On Tom’s return to the store after dinner, the merchant went 
across to the barroom and while there took several drinks of 
brandy. This seemed to have steadied his nerves, for he was 
not so restless after he came back. 

Our young friend was busy with something at one of the 
shelves, when he was startled by a loud oath from Bannon, who 
ran to get his shotgun. 

Stopping a moment to watch, Tom saw the excited man seize 
the weapon and place it near the door leading to the main street. 

The lad immediately moved ’round until he reached a point 
from which he could see any one who was likely to pass the 
store. 

There he saw Bob Peyton, sauntering carelessly along, with 
his rifle upon his shoulder. The brave young fellow had no 
idea that an enemy was lying in wait to murder him in cold 
blood. 

Bannon was so taken up with his cowardly design that he lost 
sight of the presence of the boy. 

Keeping his eye upon Bob Peyton, he swore hoarsely: 

“D — n him, Fll pay him for the thrashing he gave me the other 
night.” 

It at once occurred to Tom, upon hearing this threat of Bannon 
that he intended to kill Bob Peyton, without giving the young man 
a chance to defend himself. 

“What can I do to save him?” thought the boy. “If I try to 
warn him, we may both be killed with that shotgun. Oh, if I 
only knew what to do!” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


77 


On came Peyton, all unconscious of his danger. He passed 
the door and his would-be slayer reached for the deadly weapon. 
Quickly Tom Archer sprang past Bannon, seized the gun and 
ran into the street. 

“What in the h — 11 do you mean?” shouted Bannon furiously. 

“You shall not shoot that man down like a dog,” Tom answered 
courageously. 

Without replying, Bannon rushed at Tom with the idea of 
wresting the gun from him. The boy dodged and ran a few 
steps, cocking the gun as he fled. 

Pausing, when some distance from his pursuer, he raised the 
weapon and fired both barrels into the air. 

Bob Peyton no sooner heard the first discharge of the gun 
than he wheeled ’round and dropped his rifle into the hollow of 
his left arm. 

Seeing the boy standing in the street, with the still smoking 
gun in his hand, and Bannon retreating towards the store, he 
easily guessed what it all meant. 

A crowd of people in various stages of excitement, arrived 
upon the scene, eager to learn the cause of the shooting. When 
they saw Peyton and Tom Archer, standing about thirty yards 
apart, and both armed, they scarce knew what to think. Could 
it be possible that the two were engaged in deadly combat ? 

Peyton paid little attention to the crowd, but keeping a close 
w’atch upon the store, he hurried to where Tom Archer stood. 

“What is the trouble, my lad ?” he asked kindly. 

Without hinting at any former difficulty between the two men, 
Tom told of Bannon’s intention and how he had prevented him 
from carrying it out. 

Peyton listened attentively and when Tom finished his story, 
he said: 

“Give me that gun,” taking the weapon from the boy’s hands 
as he spoke. 


78 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Walking to the store door, he placed the gun just inside. Then 
turning to the crowd, Peyton spoke as follows : 

“This man Bannon is a gambler and a cheat. You all know 
that I sometimes play cards for money, but I play a square game. 
The other night I thrashed him soundly for cheating me, and had 
it not been for this brave boy, he would have shot me in the 
back, coward that he is. I will return here Tuesday morning, 
and I give him until then to leave town. After that I will shoot 
him on sight.” 

Bob Peyton accompanied Tom to his home and related to the 
doctor what had happened. Doctor Archer went to see the mer- 
chant on Monday, but he had left town. At Mrs. Bannon’s re- 
quest, all the goods in the store, except the groceries, were sold. 
These she could make use of at home or dispose of later. 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


TOM. WHIPS A BULLY 

On Monday morning, shortly after school opened, Tom Archer 
was very much embarrassed, when in the presence of the entire 
class, Mr. Bidwell related the recent adventures of the lad. Tom 
was praised for his bravery and presence of mind in both events, 
and was looked upon by his schoolmates as quite a hero. 

At noon, those girls and boys who brought lunch with them, 
gathered in shady spots about the playgrounds and proceeded to 
discuss the affairs, of which the teacher had spoken that morning. 

All who had been present at the baptizing, as well as those who 
knew the particulars of Tom Archer’s late adventure, had no 
lack of attentive listeners. 

Tom saw more than one bright glance cast in his direction 
from the girls’ side of the room that afternoon. The boy, observ- 
ing these looks, said to himself : 

“How Ned would like to be in my place now; he is such a 
great fellow for falling in love with the girls.” 

In every community there are sure to be found persons who 
look with envy as well as hatred, upon those who have been more 
successful in life than themselves. 

This is true not only of large cities, where men attain exalted 
stations or heap up great wealth, but it is also true of small towns 
and even of rural sections. 

Tom Archer found that he was not to wear the laurels, to 
which his courageous conduct of the past two weeks entitled him, 
without some trouble. 


8o 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The praise of his teacher, and the smiles bestowed upon him 
by certain pretty girls in the school, roused the green-eyed mon- 
ster in more than one envious breast. 

There was one boy in the school, Dick Bruner by name, who 
had from the first regarded Tom Archer with great disfavor. 
He was a youth of quarrelsome disposition, and a boy who was 
well-dressed, or whose parents were well to do, was sure to find 
an enemy in this fellow. 

From the time the lads from Virginia first entered the school 
and Bruner learned that their parents were people of consid- 
erable means, he needed no other incentive to annoy the strangers. 

The presence of Mr. Bidwell about the grounds had restrained 
him for a week or more, but he was only waiting a chance to pick 
a quarrel with the strangers. 

He w'as a boy of sixteen, a year older and somewhat larger 
than Tom Archer. Being a bully, and having a month or two 
before cut a boy with a knife, most of the lads about town stood 
in fear of him. Those who did not wish to be found in his com- 
pany, shunned him as much as possible. This only added to the 
bitter feelings he already cherished. 

Among boys of the same character, he had quite a following. 
To some of his special cronies, he had boasted that “he intended 
to give that Archer boy a derned good thrashin’.” 

Now it happened that Sam MacDonnel had heard of some of 
Bruner’s threats, and he warned his young friend to be on his 
guard all the time. 

“Dick Bruner is ez mean ez the devil an’ don’t keer what he 
fights with,” declared he. 

Tom thanked Sam for his caution, and promised to be on the 
lookout when Bruner was around. 

Two weeks or more had passed and no trouble had occurred 
at the school, but it was only a delay of the inevitable. 

For some reason, the knowledge of which is not essential to 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


81 


this story, Mr. Bidwell was called away one day at the noon 
recess, and was absent nearly an hour. 

The boys and girls, as usual, were eating their lunches here 
and there about the grounds. A number of the lads, among whom 
were Tom and Ned Archer, after eating, went to the well to draw 
up some water for several girls who wished for a drink. 

Dick Bruner, with some of his chums, sauntered up from where 
they were loitering, and when the bucket was drawn up to the 
curb, ordered those who stood ’round to get out of his way. 
Not wishing to have any trouble with him, most of the boys were 
disposed to obey this insulting command. 

Tom Archer, without moving, said to Bruner’s crowd: 

“We drew this water for the girls. After they drink and we 
have had what we want, you may help yourselves.” 

“I didn’t ask you anything about it. I want a drink of water, 
and I am 1 going to have it,” Bruner said threateningly. 

“You’ll not get any of this water until the girls have had a 
drink, and not then, unless you ask for it in the right way,” re- 
plied Tom very firmly. 

“Now, look-ee here, Archer, I’m not goin’ to put up with any 
of your fool airs,” cried Bruner, “and if you don’t git outen my 
w!ay, I’ll knock your derned head offen your shoulders.” 

By this time the girls had become much frightened, and they 
now hurried into the schoolroom, watching the rest of the dif- 
ficulty from a safe place near the windows. The small boys 
drew off some distance where they would be out of danger in 
case a fight took place. 

Tom Archer saw that the girls would not stay to get the water, 
and he very coolly and with much deliberation, emptied the con- 
tents of the buoket back into the well. 

Waiting until the last drops had trickled from the vessel, Tom 
remarked carelessly: 

“If any of you want any water, you are welcome to draw it 


82 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


from the well,” and he put down the bucket and started for 
another part of the playground. 

Just as the boy turned, Bruner, who was terribly enraged by 
Tom’s action, rushed at him with uplifted arm and an oath upon 
his lips, and struck a heavy blow at the Virginia lad’s head. Had 
it not been for a warning cry from one of his friends, Tom Archer 
would have been knocked senseless to the earth. 

But, as he had expected something of the kind, he was not 
taken entirely unawares. At the warning, he whirled ’round 
quickly, and though staggered by the blow, he did not receive the 
full force of it. 

He steadied himself, and rushing at Bruner, gave him one 
straight from the shoulder upon the jaw. Down went the bully, 
and never was he more surprised in all his life. 

Some resistance he expected, of course, but not such as he met 
with. As he raised himself from the ground, Bruner said to his 
friends, who hitherto had considered him invincible: 

“Just wait and see me thrash him. I didn’t think he would 
fight.” Turning to Tom, he shouted defiantly: 

“Come on, if you want to fight. I am ready fer you.” 

“I don’t care to fight,” replied Tom in a low tone, “but I don’t 
intend to let you bully and strike me, and you had better not try 
it again,” he said fearlessly. 

Bruner saw that if he wanted to keep his standing among the 
boys, he must whip Tom Archer. He had an idea that the other 
boy was afraid of him and had only knocked him down because 
the attack was unexpected, so he rushed at Tom again. 

Our young friend was ready, but not so fortunate this time, 
for Bruner got in several blows upon different parts of his body. 
Tom had learned to box back in old Virginia, and this knowledge 
was now to be of great assistance to him. 

Both boys fought warily, and for a while the issue seemed 
doubtful. Finally, Bruner landed a fearful blow upon Tom’s 
nose, causing the blood to flow freely from that member. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


83 


The adherents of the young Virginian were beginning to lose 
heart, and poor Ned stood by not knowing what to do. But Tom 
was not whipped yet. 

His opponent, thinking he was about done for, grew careless. 
Tom, now seeing that his time had come, rushed at Bruner and 
planted a stunning uppercut upon his chin, sending his enemy 
rolling upon the ground. Without giving the ruffian a chance to 
rise, he pummelled him soundly. 

Tom continued the drubbing till completely exhausted, and the 
defeated bully had no more fight left in him. 

Mr. Bidwell, who arrived just as the fight ended, called the 
school together and inquired closely into the matter. From the 
evidence of the older boys and girls, he had every reason to 
believe that the entire blame rested upon Bruner. 

This was by no means the first fight he had started at the 
school, and the teacher dismissed him and gave him warning to 
keep off the school premises in the future. Bruner took his books 
and departed, nursing his wrath, and vowing to get even with 
Tom Archer later. 

Fearing that Tom might be punished for engaging in the fight, 
Mr. Bidwell accompanied him home and explained the affair to 
his father. 

The doctor was glad to hear that his son was not to blame. 
He told both the boys, that while he did not wish to encourage 
themj to fight, if they could honorably avoid it, they must not 
allow themselves to be imposed upon or bullied by any one. 

Sam MacDonnel heard of Tom’s victory over Bruner and 
was very jubilant. He congratulated the lad upon his “spunk,” 
as he termed it, but warned him to be very careful in the future 
not to allow the young bully to catch him unprepared. 

“That feller will git even with you ens ef hit takes him a life- 
time,” Sam said positively. 


CHAPTER] THIRTEEN 


THE REFUGEES 

One afternoon, as Tom and Ned were returning from school, 
they saw that the grove back of the courthouse was filled with a 
large company of refugees. These people had fled at the ap- 
proach of Sherman’s army and were making their way to At- 
lanta and other points in the South. 

Day after day the refugees came, some of them passing on 
without stopping in the town. Others halted for one night only, 
but many went into camp for a week or ten days, to rest their 
animals while recruiting their own strength. 

Numbers of these travellers were like unto the patriarchs of 
olden times. Upon the journey they were accompanied by a 
large retinue of servants who still clung to their former masters. 
In front of the company went the flocks and herds, driven by the 
negroes. 

D became a great camping place for the refugees, for here 

they found both shade and water. The young folks of the town 
were glad to see these wanderers come and experienced great 
pleasure in visiting the camps, especially at night. The presence 
of so many strangers gave to the place a kind of holiday appear- 
ance, which at the time was a source of relief to the people. 

Having eaten their suppers, the refugees gathered about the 
fires and talked of home and friends they had left behind, and 
wondered if they should ever see them again. Often stories were 
told, and frequently the sound of voices singing Southern war- 
songs and negro mielodies were heard by those passing the grove. 

The negroes were not behind their masters in their enjoyment 
at these times. With fires, at some little distance from “de white 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 85 

folks/’ they sang, laughed and chattered away, without a thought 
for the future. 

In all of the camps were to be found no less than two or three 
fiddles or banjos. These particular musical instruments have 
been a part of the Southern negro from time immemorial, and 
as soon as supper was over and the stock fed, they were brought 
out by their owners. 

What a tuning-up there was before the frolic commenced. 
What bursts of laughter resounded on all sides, while the young 
negro men selected their partners for the coming dance. 

All through the grove little darkies kept time to the music, and 
it was remarkable how they could caper and “cut the pigeon wing.” 
They seemed to have music in their very heels. 

Whatever might happen to them in the future, never again 
would they be so happy as when they danced away the hours that 
evening in Georgia. 

The merry laugh and song floated away upon the breeze those 
moonlit nights, but how little any one dreamed of the terrible 
days soon to follow. Who could foretell that in less than three 
weeks the ground around would be trampled by the iron heel of 
war? 

Who dreamed that in a short time the refugees would be gone 
forever and their places filled by the rude soldiery of Sherman ? 
The dance of the happy little darkies would then be “a dance of 
death,” and instead of laughter and songs, the night would be 
filled with groans and shrieks of wounded and dying men. 

Ned Archer was passing the grove, on his way from school 
one day, when he saw that all the refugees had departed. He 
thought it would be rather dull now, without the nightly visits to 
the camp. 

The youngster arrived in sight of his home and saw a carriage, 
which had halted at the front gate. In the vehicle sat a stranger, 
who was talking with Ned’s father. 


86 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


This gentleman proved to be a Mr. Coffman from Tennessee. 
With him were his wife and daughter, the latter a pretty girl of 
twelve or thirteen years. 

The refugees had halted to ask permission to camp in the grove 
opposite the house. The favor was willingly granted, but the 
doctor insisted that the gentleman and his wife and daughter 
should stay at his home. This kind invitation was gladly accepted. 

Mr. Coffman had started from Tennessee some weeks before. 
On his journey he crossed Alabama and entered Georgia south- 
west of Rome, thus getting ahead of the army. He reached D 

in the early part of May, but not much in advance of Johnston, 
who fell back towards Atlanta soon after. 

The wagons and live stock of Mr. Coffman were driven into 
the grove by the negroes who were with him. The carriage was 
taken into the lane by Jim, and the fine pair of horses, which 
drew the vehicle, were put in the doctor’s stable. 

Aunt Lucy bestirred herself to prepare a substantial meal for 
the doctor’s guests, and the tired travellers sought their beds at 
an early hour. 

Mrs. Archer made them as comfortable as possible, for she 
thought of her own long journey and the weary nights spent upon 
the cars a few weeks previous. 

Mr. Tazewell, whose place adjoined the doctor’s upon the 
southwest, came over after supper to see his neighbor on busi- 
ness. The stories of the advancing army had become more and 
more alarming with each new company of strangers, and the 
planter had determined to refugee. 

He had more meal, bacon and grain than he could take with 
him, and he offered to sell the surplus to the doctor. This was a 
very opportune offer, for Doctor Archer needed just these sup- 
plies. Mr. Coffman wanted some grain, and he agreed to take 
what the doctor did not wish. 

The business between Mr. Tazewell and the doctor was con- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


87 


eluded, and Mr. Coffman and the planter entered into an agree- 
ment to travel together. Not only would they be company for 
each other, but in case of accident upon the road they would not 
be destitute of advice and assistance. 

On the Friday following the arrival of the refugees from 
Tennessee, a spelling match was to be held at Mr. Bidwell’s 
school in the afternoon. Mr. Coffman’s daughter was invited to 
attend the exercises. 

There were to be dialogues, recitations of prose and poetry, and 
also some short speeches. But the real business of the afternoon 
commenced with the “spelling battle.” 

Great interest was always manifested by the young folks when- 
ever these contests were about to take place. Frequently the 
parents of the scholars, and others interested in the welfare of 
the school, came out to hear the boys and girls spell. 

Two of the very best spellers in the classes were appointed 
captains, and they were expected to choose sides for the match. 

On this particular afternoon, when first choice had been set- 
tled by lot, the leaders, as rapidly as possible, selected one pupil 
after another until all the best spellers were chosen. The sides 
by that time were lined up opposite each other, ready for battle. 

Miss Burton was asked by the captains to give out the spelling. 
She had opened the book preparatory to pronouncing the first 
word, when the attention of every person within the room was 
attracted by a noise at the door. 

There stood Doctor Archer’s negro boy, Jim, his eyes almost 
twice their usual size, and his arms waving excitedly. 

Tom Archer feared that something terrible had happened at 
home. He left his place in one line of the spellers and went to 
the door to hear from the boy what had caused his excitement. 

Jim, who had gone ’round by Tazewell’s with a message, had 
pretty well exhausted his power of breathing by the time he had 
reached the schoolhouse. 


88 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The negro boy could see, by the mjanner in which the teachers 
and pupils were regarding him, that they were expecting news 
of some terrible happening at the doctor’s home. 

Making a strong effort to recover himself, he cried hoarsely : 

“Marse Tom say bring de little gal home an’ tell de teacher to 
shet up school. He say let de chillun all take dey books home 
wid ’em, and don’t wait fur nuffin’.” 

“Did my father say why we were to come home in such a 
hurry?” questioned Tom. 

“He say tell Marse Bidwell to smiss de school at wunce,” re- 
plied Jim. “Genal Jonsen am failin’ back, and de Ankees will be 
in town fore night.” 

Not an instant was lost after the delivery of Jim’s message. 
Books, slates and copybooks were gathered up hurriedly, and the 
children hastened from the schoolroom. They were warned not 
to tarry by the way, but to go directly to their homes. 

Except the little daughter of the refugee, there had been no 
visitor at the school upon this afternoon. Mr. Bidwell and his 
sister-in-law waited long enough to see the last scholar depart, 
when they, too, left the building. For many long months to come 
there was no school in D . 

Tom and Ned Archer reached home to find Mr. Coffman and 
his wife sitting in their carriage, all ready for the start towards 
Atlanta. They only awaited the coming of their little girl. 

The mules, sheep and other animals had been collected, and the 
shrill and excited cries of the negroes could be heard as they 
drove the stock along the road at the farther end of the town. 

Mr. Coffman’s daughter took her seat in the carriage beside 
her mother. Then they bade the hospitable Virginians goodbye 
for the last time and drove away. 

In consequence of the message delivered by Jim, the refugees 
from Tennessee were joined at the courthouse by Mr. Tazewell. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 89 

This gentleman, like the others, had started his cattle in advance 
of the carriage and other vehicles. 

The season was warm and dry, and the hoofs of the rapidly 
moving herds stirred up the sand and sent clouds of dirt whirling 
in the air above their heads. 

Before this flying dust had settled down, heavy firing was heard 

beyond the northern end of town. The citizens of D now 

knew for a certainty that the Federals were at last almost within 
their midst. The three years of immunity from danger enjoyed 
by this section since the beginning of the war ended with Sher- 
man’s coming. 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


THE ADVANCE OF SHERMAN 

There was very little sleep in the town that night. Those who 
were not running from house to house, in a frenzied manner, 
were trying to find safe hiding places for their valuables. 

Many people had left everything of this kind until the very last 
moment, for they could not believe that Johnston would ever 
retreat from Dalton, so great was their confidence in him. 

Our friends from Virginia, we are glad to say, had acted with 
more wisdom. While Doctor Archer had all confidence in the 
Confederate leader, he knew that Johnston was contending against 
great odds. He had prudently taken the advice of the first refu- 
gees, and had hidden everything of value that he could. 

From the dining room there opened a small apartment, which 
from the yard, appeared to be a part of the larger room. With 
the exception of Sam MacDonnel and his wife, no one outside the 
doctor’s family was aware of the existence of this small chamber. 

Bacon, lard, meal, flour and many other useful things were 
stored away in this place. Some pieces of family plate were put 
in a box and buried back of the overseer’s house. 

For the door of the little room, Mrs. Archer made a curtain of 
some soft material. Any one not in the secret would have sup- 
posed that this curtain hid a window. More especially was this 
true, as all the windows in the dining room were draped in the 
same mianner as the door. 

At one time Doctor Archer had thought of opening business in 
the storeroom which he owned, for Tom was anxious to be a 
merchant. The doctor’s idea, which he later abandoned, was 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


9i 

to employ some capable and reliable person, from whom his son 
might learn enough to look after the store himself. 

On his visit to Atlanta, Doctor Archer had purchased ten boxes 
of Tobacco, along with other goods. Most of the merchandise 
had been disposed of to the refugees, but the tobacco still re- 
mained in his possession. 

The Virginia weed was an article which usually found ready 
sale, but just at this time it was liable to create trouble for the 
owner. The little room being already full, the doctor was puzzled 
to know what to do with the tobacco. Here Sam MacDonnel 
came to his aid. 

From six of the boxes and some boards, a lounge was made. 
Upon this was placed a mattress of raw cotton and the whole cov- 
ered with calico, with curtains at sides and ends reaching the 
floor. 

The four boxes which remained were converted into as many 
stools, each having a soft cushion of cotton and a covering very 
similar to that of the couch. These seats, though frequently 
used by the Federal officers, never excited the least suspicion 
as to their being anything but very harmless ottomans. 

The older members of Doctor Archer’s family remained out of 
bed pretty much the entire night of Sherman’s advance. To- 
wards morning the doctor, who heard troops marching past the 
house, went to the front gate. 

He was told by an officer that they were some of Johnston’s 
men, who were covering the retreat of the main body of the Con- 
federates. They were holding Sherman’s advance guard in check 
while their army was getting into position. 

In the morning Aunt Lucy prepared breakfast for the family, 
and just as they were sitting down, Sam MacDonnel came in, 
bringing Betty with him. 

The couple were invited to take breakfast, which they did, and 
when the meal was finished Sam said to the lady of the house : 


92 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Mrs Archer, kin we’uns stay here fur a few days. My ole 
’oman is dreadfully afeerd of the Yankys, and we’uns wants toe 
scout around a bit.” 

Mrs. Archer was very glad to have Betty with her, and she 
told Sam they were perfectly welcome to remain for a while. 
They could occupy one of the small bed-rooms at the far end of 
the dining room as long as they cared to stay. Some of Mac- 
Donnel’s neighbors were to look after his house. 

Shortly after breakfast Sam went off upon a little scout on his 
own hook. On his return he said to the doctor : 

“We’uns seed a lot of Yankys off on a hill, an’ they’uns was 
gittin’ thicker than fleas, so we’uns scooted fur home.” 

It was probably ten o’clock in the morning when on the northern 
side of the town the firing became rapid and continuous. Pres- 
ently Johnston’s men, who were in that direction, commenced fall- 
ing back towards the Atlanta road. 

Doctor Archer questioned some of the Confederates and 
learned that Sherman was likely to advance at any moment. See- 
ing an officer, the doctor asked him if he thought there was any 
special danger in keeping his family at home. He knew it would 
be too late to get away after the army entered town. 

“If you leave your home unprotected,” the officer replied, “it 
will certainly be plundered. You might send your children to 
some safe place off this road, upon which Sherman’s army will 
advance. Unless the artillery is stationed close by, you Will be in 
no great danger.” 

Thanking the officer for the information, the doctor went at 
once into the house, where he had a hurried consultation with his 
wife regarding the matter. 

Mrs. Archer agreed with her husband, that it would be far 
better for them to send the children to Colonel Hall’s, while the 
rest of the family remained at home. 

The doctor sent one of the boys to call Sam MacDonnel, who 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


93 


was in the big kitchen. He was asked if he was willing to 
accompany the children and look after them. 

Sam was glad to be of assistance to the doctor, and replied 
with his usual good-natured smile: 

“Youens take kear uv my ole ’oman, an’ weuns will git the 
childrun safe and soun’ tu the kurnel’s. Mary will haf to be tote'’ 
fur weuns mus move lively.” 

The doctor asked Aunt Lucy if she did not think it would be 
well for Liz to go with the children. It was explained to her that 
the girl would be safer at the colonel’s. 

“Deed I does tink dat gal had better go,” assented the old 
woman gladly. “Ef she stay here an’ de Ankees cum, she’ll be 
screechin’ an’ bawlin’ an’ makin’ a fool ob herself.” 

Mrs. Archer well knew that it would be worse than useless to 
urge her kind old nurse to leave her. The faithful creature had 
recently been heard to declare “that nothing but death should ever 
again separate her from her mistress.” That one night in Staun- 
ton had been enough for a lifetime. 

Before starting Tom was entrusted with a message from his 
father to the colonel. This he was told to deliver immediately 
upon his arrival., 

“Now, Sam,” said the doctor, as the former was preparing to 
move off, “take good care of the children. Be careful not to stop 
on the way, and when you can safely do so, bring the youngsters 
back home.” 

Sam promised faithfully to obey his instructions, and then 
carefully lifting Mary to his shoulder, he set off with long strides 
up the street. Liz, with sun-bonnet swinging from her right hand 
and a large piece of corn bread grasped in her left, trotted along 
at Sam MacDonnel’s heels, munching as she went. Tom and Ned 
brought up the rear. 

The four children and their faithful guardian had traversed 
about half the distance that lay between their home and the 


94 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


planter’s residence, when they were halted by a picket. He was 
stationed near Lair’s, somewhat in advance of a skirmish line 
thrown out by Johnston. 

This line extended from the courthouse to a point a mile or 
more beyond the home of Colonel Hall, upon what was known 
as the back road. 

Johnston was pursuing his old tactics, by which he had kept 
Shermian in check all the way from Dalton. If we take into con- 
sideration the great difference in the size of these armies, it cer- 
tainly seems remarkable that the Confederate leader had success- 
fully kept this immense host of Sherman’s at bay for so long 
a time. 

On being forced from one position, by the weight of superior 
numbers, he would slowly retreat, keeping his skirmishers at a 
good distance from his main line. 

Upon reaching the next range of hills he would again entrench 
himself. Thus, by repeated engagements, he inflicted great loss 
upon the enemy with little injury to the forces under his com- 
mand. 

By the time the Federals had entered D , he occupied an 

elevation southeast of town, his line of earthworks extending 
beyond the Atlanta road. 

Johnston would now wait for Sherman’s next move, for he 
felt confident he could maintain his position for a week at least. 
The events of the next few days proved that he was not mis- 
taken in his calculations. 

We must now return to our friends whom we left with the 
sentinel. The soldier had received orders not to allow any one 
to pass who was going north, that is, towards Sherman’s lines. 
This, of course, was to prevent information being carried to the 
enemy concerning the movements of the Confederates. 

While Sam was still engaged in conversation with the picket, 
quick firing commenced. Then a bugle call sounded. This was 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 95 

a signal for the skirmishers to move a little farther back and 
nearer their own lines. 

“You had better take those children into the basement of that 
big house/' said the sentinel, pointing at the hotel. “You are 
right between the skirmish lines and are in danger of being 
killed at any moment. Do not leave the building until sure the 
fighting is over." 

Sam, upon receiving this warning, hastened to get the children 
into the lower story of Lair’s hotel. This basement was divided 
into two parts by a brick partition. There was no door hung 
between the two rooms, but you passed from one to the other by 
a large opening in the partition. 

Two big chimneys started from the basement, and this gave 
two wide fire-places on each side. After seeing the children 
safe into the back room, Sam told them to leave there on no 
account, and if firing commenced very rapidly, to get into the fire- 
places. He then went to the third floor to keep watch and, if 
possible, be first to see the army enter. 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 


THE FEDERALS OCCUPY THE TOWN 

It was just before midday when the children entered the hotel, 
and as they crouched upon the floor of the basement listening to 
the distant firing, the time seemed long indeed. 

At two o’clock fighting became very brisk, and Sam, from a 
window on the third story, saw that the Federals were advancing 
upon the town. 

Hurrying down to see how the children were getting along, he 
found them) huddled in one of the fire-places. Tom and Ned 
were bearing up bravely, but little Mary was badly frightened. 

Liz began bawling when she saw Sam, but upon the latter 
threatening to put her in a closet and lock her up, she became 
quiet. Covering her head with her apron she rocked her body 
back and forth and kept up a dismal moaning. 

In a short time the firing ceased entirely, and Sam finding the 
youngsters no longer uneasy, went back to his post. Nearly an 
hour had gone by and all danger seemed over. Ned and Liz grew 
very tired of sitting still and commenced to romp about the two 
rooms of the basement, running from one to the other. 

Fearing that the noise made by the boy and girl would attract 
attention to their hiding place in case of soldiers passing, Tom 
ordered them to be quiet. But still they kept up the racket. He 
now grew angry and flung several old shoes at the heads of the 
rompers, but this only made them laugh. 

Finding that he could not stop this racing around, Tom; paid no 
more attention to his brother and the girl, but went to lift Mary 
from the floor where she had fallen asleep. Seeing this, Ned 
told Liz to keep quiet so that his sister could rest. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


97 


In that moment while all was so still, a cannon boomed, the first 
that any of them had ever heard. In far less time than is requires 
to relate, a shell came screaming along, taking the top of one of 
the large chimneys in its course. 

Down came the upper part of this pile of brick and mortar, 
with a noise like thunder. It seemed to jar the entire building 
from attic to basement. 

“My Gawd,” screamed Liz. “Jedgement day is cornin’.” And 
with these wbrds she darted into the fire-place where she squatted 
down, and swaying back and forth, wailed loudly. “Oh Lordy ! 
oh Lordy! jedgement is cornin’ sho nuf dis timje.” 

“If you don’t stop that infernal racket,” cried Tom, “I will call 
Sam and make him put you out in the yard and let the Yankees 
take you away.” 

This threat had the desired effect, for the noise ceased in short 
order. Master Ned sought a corner of the fire-place and had no 
more to say. Poor little Mary woke up scared almost to death 
by the terrible din, and Tom had all he could do to pacify her. 

On the west side of the basement was what might be termed 
a half window, and in this direction the children all at once heard 
a strange shuffling sound. The noise grew louder and louder, 
and when the frightened youngsters looked that way they beheld 
a strange sight. 

The sound they heard was caused by the trampling of hundreds 
of feet, while the singular scene upon which they gazed was the 
movement of whole companies of blue legs. 

They could see no more than this, but Tom Archer knew 
what it meant. “Sherman,” he thought, “has captured the town, 
and these are his troops marching past the tavern.” 

Sam had slipped down long enough to whisper to Tom not to 
be scared, and to tell the rest to be as quiet as possible. He then 
went back up the steps. 


9 8 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The good fellow really thought it would be better for the chil- 
dren if no man was found with them, and this perhaps was true. 

From the time the chimney fell until the first of the Federals 
marched by, seemed hours to the trembling children. In reality 
it was but a few moments that they sat there gazing fearfully at 
the legs of the mlarching thousands. 

Sherman was moving his army against Johnston’s lines in 
three divisions, and the one now passing entered the town upon 
the north. The head of the column reached the corner, and then 
a sharp command rang out as the Federals turned east toward 
Colonel Hall’s. 

A Dutchman of jovial turn, seeing the sign above the door of 
the small room at the end of the porch, shouted hilariously : 

“Bar room, viskey for me!” 

Tom Archer thought as he heard this fellow’s cry : 

“They can’t be such bad men after all, if they have fun in them 
like that. I don’t think they will kill us.” 

Soon after this the children had a terrible scare, compared 
with which the falling of the chimney was a very trivial affair. 

A general, surrounded by his staff, rode into the yard on the 
east side of the tavern. The lads were watching the soldiers 
through a small window in the basement door which led into the 
yard. 

Suddenly, above the noise of the marching columns, the crack 
of a rifle was heard. One of the officers near the general swayed 
in his saddle for a second, then tumbled to the ground. The 
shot was evidently from some Confederate sharpshooter who had 
lingered behind his comrades. 

For a moment only the death of the officer created consterna- 
tion. After the body was removed the incident was soon for- 
gotten, for these soldiers had weightier matters to consider than 
the death of a single man. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


99 


Not caring to risk the loss of more of his officers at the hands 
of the sharpshooters, the general called one of his staff to him 
for the purpose of giving him an order. 

“Call a sergeant,” he commanded sternly. “Let him take a file 
of men and look through the buildings near the line of march. 
Take this one first,” indicating as he spoke the hotel where our 
young friends were concealed. 

Tom Archer heard this order and murmured to himself : 

“They will kill every one of us before we can tell them who 
we are. They will think the officer was shot by some one in the 
house.” 

The sergeant upon receiving his orders started at once toward 
the basement door. Before he could descend the two or three 
steps leading from the yard, the door was thrown open and Tom, 
followed by the others, came out. To say that the sergeant and 
his men were surprised, would be putting it rather mildly. 

There stood Tom with his brother and sister, and the negro 
girl just behind them. Upon seeing these youngsters where they 
had expected to find men if anybody, the sergeant cried in 
astonishment : 

“What in the devil are you chaps doin’ in here?” 

“Please do not shoot us,” begged Tom. “We only went into 
the house to be out of danger.” 

An officer, who had remained near the tavern by order of the 
general, asked the lad kindly : 

“Where do you children live?” 

“Down that road in the big white house,” replied Tom, point- 
ing in the direction of his father’s home. 

The officer was upon the eve of inquiring if there was any one 
else in the house when Sam MacDonnel made his appearance. 
He saluted the soldier very respectfully and stated to him how 
the children and himself came to be in the hotel. 

Satisfied that Sam was telling the truth, the officer ordered a 


100 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


mounted soldier to take the children home. Sam was turned over 
to the sergeant, who told him that he would be set free after 
giving some information concerning the roads leading from the 
town. 

Taking Mary in front of him upon the saddle, the cavalryman 
set off for Doctor Archer’s. Tom, Ned and Liz followed as best 
they could, dodging in and out among the soldiers who were 
swarming about in every direction. 

Riding up to the doctor’s gate, the soldier dismounted, and 
after lifting Mary from the horse, he walked up to the piazza. 
Doctor Archer and his wife were watching the Federals as they 
marched by. 

Politely addressing the lady, the cavalryman said : 

“Madame, I have brought your children home according to 
order.” 

At the first glance the mother did not recognize the youngsters. 
And no wonder, for their faces were covered with the soot from 
the fire-places, and Mary and the boys were almost as black 
as Liz. 

Looking first at one and then at another, Mrs. Archer said 
doubtfully : 

“These surely cannot be my children. They are all so black, 
and besides, my little ones are now at Colonel Hall’s.” 

Before the boys could declare themselves, Liz stepped to the 
front, and clasping her hands, pleaded tearfully : 

“Oh, Mis Mary ! deed we is yo chillun. Deed and deed we is. 
Please do not send us away, fo de Lawd a massy’s sake.” 

At this juncture Aunt Lucy, who had from time to time been 
peeping from the hall door, asserted most positively: 

“Dat’s Liz, Mis Mary. Ed know her big mouf anywhar in de 
worl. Dat’s dat nigger gal all right.” 

The identity of the girl being thus firmly established to the 
satisfaction of all parties, the parents were willing to receive the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


IOI 


others. The soldier was thanked for his kindness and he then 
rode away. 

The children had eaten nothing since early breakfast, and all 
of them complained of being hungry. Aunt Lucy was not long 
in preparing something with which to appease their appetites. 

The tired youngsters ate a very hearty meal, and Mary and 
Liz went into the cool parlor for a nap. It was not five minutes 
until the former was fast asleep upon a couch, while the negro 
girl took her rest upon the floor. 

“Come on, Ned,” begged Tom, “I am awfully thirsty. Let us go 
out to the well and get a drink.” 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 


SOME INCIDENTS OF WAR 

The boys found the yard crowded with soldiers, just as the 
streets had been on their return home. They glanced across the 
road into the grove. There, moving around among the trees pre- 
paring their camps, were hundreds of Federals. In whatever 
direction they gazed they saw the blue-coated hosts of Sherman. 

Aunt Lucy, who was on the front piazza, whispered fearfully : 

“Marse Tom, there mus’ be milyuns ob dem.” 

“There are not so many as that, Aunt Lucy,” replied the doc- 
tor, seriously, “but there are more of them than we care to see 
just now.” 

The rye in the field, just across the lane from the house, a 
few weeks later would have been ready for harvest. But it had 
been pulled up and fed to the mules and horses. 

The ground all about, which had been so much trampled by 
thousands of hoofs, now differed very little in appearance from 
the adjoining road. In crossing it the horses raised a thick dust. 

While in the hotel the children suffered from thirst, for the 
day was extremely warm, it being now about the middle of May. 
The brothers took enough time when done eating to tell how they 
had happened to fall into the hands of the soldiers. They then 
hurried through the house to the well, not caring to go by way 
of the yard, which was crowded with men. 

Near the well a corporal had been stationed to prevent the waste 
of water, for to these thirsty soldiers it was worth more than its 
weight in gold. 

Tom and Ned informed the man on guard that they belonged 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


103 


to the house, and were not prevented from getting what water 
they needed to quench their thirst. 

Sherman’s headquarters were not far from Doctor Archer’s 
residence, and some of the officers had their tents pitched in the 
physician’s yard. 

This was very fortunate for our friends, who were thus pro- 
tected from the depredations of bummers and camp followers. 
These gentry were not only numerous, but very thievish. 

It will be remembered that in describing the residence of 
Doctor Archer we mentioned two small bed chambers at the end 
of the dining room. This end of the building, next the kitchen, 
rested upon piles, and was about three feet above the ground. 

Noticing the guard talking to the boys, a thieving rascal coming 
for water, saw as he passed one of these bed rooms, a pane of 
glass missing from the sash. 

On returning from the well he picked up an old chair which he 
found near the kitchen door, and placed it on the ground below 
the window. 

Betty MacDonnel, who, with her husband, occupied the room, 
entered it just as the thief thrust his hand through where the 
pane was missing. He had seized a large and valuable shawl 
which had been thrown by some one that morning across the 
foot of the bed. 

Betty grabbed the end of the shawl when it was nearly half 
way out of the window. The fellow leaned back, putting his 
whole weight against Betty’s strength. But as the latter had 
braced herself against a bed-post, the rogue had a tougher 
proposition than he bargained for. 

This tugging match was still in progress, when Ned Archer, 
who had left his brother talking to the corporal, entered the 
dining room. 

The lad took in the situation of affairs at a glance, and whis- 
pered gleefully to Betty : 


104 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


'‘Hold on tight for a moment and I will fix that chap.” 

Ned had entered the dining room by the door opening from 
the side next the well, and he quickly passed out upon the 
opposite side. 

Bending down, he slipped under the house just at the very 
moment the bummer was bracing himself for a pull of extra 
strength in his efforts to get the shawl. 

The boy stooped, and reaching out his hand, seized a leg of the 
chair and gave it a sharp jerk towards him. Down went the 
plunderer sprawling on his back. 

The guard, startled by hearing the noise of the fall, came 
round the corner to see what was going on. 

The overturned chair, the discomfited scoundrel lying on the 
ground — but plainer yet than these, the end of the shawl hang- 
ing from the window — told the story. 

“Get up from there,” commanded the corporal, and when the 
fellow had risen slowly to his feet a couple of soldiers were 
called and given orders by the indignant officer to take the 
thief to the guard house. No further trouble of the kind 
occurred during the stay of the army. 

Greatly to the relief of our young friends Tom and Ned, Sam 
MacDonnel turned up in timie for supper. 

The lads had been very much troubled about Sam, for they 
were not aware of the promise to release him. They feared he 
had been held on account of the shooting of the officer, and had 
thought of asking their father to intercede for him. 

“When you’ens started fur home,” said Sam, “them Yankys 
axed all sorts uv questions about the roads, an’ how fur it wus 
toe Atlanty, but they’uns got mity little informashun out uv 
we’uns. Arter axin sum mo questions, we’uns was let go.” 

Our friends kept pretty close to the house that evening, and 
they were not troubled by any one. On the approach of night a 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


105 


wonderful sight presented itself. Every field upon the planta- 
tion was lighted up by blazing camp-fires. 

Looking in any direction one could see the hills crowned with 
piles of burning rails. The Federals seemed to be celebrating 
their entrance into town by starting bonfires. 

The fences around the doctor’s yard and garden were not 
destroyed at this time, owing to the fact that the officers were 
camping there. Stringent orders had been given that nothing 
upon the premises should be disturbed. 

In return for this protection the officers demanded a certain 
amount of cooking for their mess and a room in which to eat 
their meals. 

Aunt Lucy and Betty MacDonnel did the cooking, and Jim 
waited at the officers’ table. The negro boy occasionally re- 
ceived a little money from the soldiers. 

With Betty’s help, Mrs. Archer arranged matters so that the 
family could take their meals at the same time as the officers. 

Sam visited his home each morning and evening, and as he had 
made somie of the soldiers camping nearby a present of a couple 
of quarts of the strong and fragrant corn juice, they protected 
his property for him. 

The officers who took their meals in the big kitchen sometimes 
passed through the dining room, but not once did they appear 
to suspect the existence of hidden stores. 

If anything was needed from the little room, it was brought 
out after the officers had retired to their quarters for the night. 
Fortunately for our friends, the house was not searched. 

Very little fighting took place around town the first two days 
after Sherman’s men arrived. Both armies were busily occupied 
in throwing up entrenchments and otherwise preparing to be in 
readiness for the coming struggle. The people had gotten over 
their first scare and went about town unmolested. 

Tom and Ned went out at first only when accompanied by 


io 6 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


their father or Sam MacDonnel. After a while they walked 
fearlessly about the streets and took great pleasure in riding the 
artillery and cavalry horses to water. 

Sometimes they were playfully greeted by the soldiers with : 

“Hello there, little Johnny Rebs,” or something similar, but 
were never disturbed by any of the men. 

One morning the boys went to Colonel Hall’s, and not having 
anything to hurry them back, they stopped to see how things 
looked in the grove. 

Not far from the town spring was a large inclosure of rails 
filled with cattle, soon to be slaughtered. Among the animals 
they were astonished to see their own cow. “Old Spot.” How 
she had escaped from the stable they could not imagine. 

The two boys hurried home and told their father about the 
matter. The doctor went to see General Sherman, who gave him 
an order to get the animal. Tom and the negro boy Jim had 
accompanied the doctor to headquarters. He gave the paper to 
the boys and sent them to get the cow. 

The soldier in charge of the cattle sent a couple of men into 
the pen to separate the doctor’s cow from the rest of the animals 
and bring her out. 

The boys were driving the cow towards home when they were 
greeted by cries from the soldiers: 

“What’s the price of milk, Johnny,” and “What will you take 
for that air cowT” 

Remembering the caution he had received from his father, Tom 
remarked to Jim : 

“We’ll say nothing, and then we’ll keep out of trouble.” 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


THE HORRORS OF WAR 

The army had occupied the town about four days when the 
fighting commenced in earnest. Sherman made every effort in 
his power to drive Johnston from his breastworks, but without 
success. Firing started about three o’clock in the afternoon, 
slowly at first, but rapidly increasing every moment. 

For two or three hours there was a continuous roll of mus- 
ketry, with every moment or so the loud booming of cannon. 
The very earth trembled from the shock of these great guns. 
The yells of thousands of Federals rent the air, as they charged 
up the heights in their attempts to carry the Confederate earth- 
works. 

Again and again were these charges made, but every attempt to 
dislodge the men of Johnston was without effect. One assault 
after another was repulsed, and hundreds of Sherman’s men 
fell before the Confederate breastworks. 

Night came on, and darkness put a stop to the fighting. The 
fearful din of battle died away gradually, and numbers of 
exhausted soldiers sank in their tracks to snatch a moment’s 
rest. 

The people of D , though they were not aware of it, were 

at no time during the day in any great danger. General John- 
ston from his position upon the hills could have thrown shells 
into Sherman’s crowded camps with terrible havoc, but the 
thought of the helpless women and children in the town 
restrained him. 

At dark the camp-fires again blazed up, and the soldiers gath- 


io8 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


ered round them preparing for supper. Observing these signs 
of peace, the people were encouraged to come from their various 
hiding places where they had been sheltered during the after- 
noon. It was a great relief to get out and breathe the fresh air. 

A military band at Sherman’s headquarters played several airs 
very popular in the North at that period. Then came a pause 
of a few moments between pieces, when a band upon the Con- 
federate side played “Yankee Doodle.” This was answered from 
the Federal band with “Dixie.” 

The notes of this good old tune, so dear to Southern hearts, 
fell upon the ears of Johnston’s men, and they rent the air with 
cheers all along the line of entrenchments. 

Presently the last note died away and they made the very 
welking ring with that cry that had so often fired their hearts 
when going into battle. The sound of Johnston’s men cheering 
was plainly heard in all parts of D . 

“There’s our old “Rebel Yell,” said Doctor Archer, who, with 
the rest of his family was sitting on the piazza. “How it reminds 
me of the days in the Valley of Virginia when we followed 
Stonewall Jackson. What a loss he was to the South, for no 
leader has been found to fill the place left vacant by his death.” 

The cheering by Johnston’s men was answered by a similar 
demonstration upon the part of the Federals. But when the 
familiar strains of “Home, Sweet Home” were heard in the Con- 
federate camp a deep hush fell upon that mighty throng of battle- 
scarred warriors. 

Silently they listened, and as their thoughts flew to dear ones 
far away their hearts grew tender and they forgot for the 
moment that on the morrow they would perhaps meet in deadly 
struggle with the enemy. 

Hostilities were not renewed next morning, and Tom and 
Ned started, in company with Sam MacDonnel, for a walk to- 
wards the other end of town. They were very anxious to see 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


109 


how things looked in that direction after the battle, for the 
fighting had been very warmt along the Atlanta road. 

They went no further than the Baptist Church, which was 
the first building to be used as a hospital. Here they found 
enough to engage their attention for some time. Ambulances 
coming from the scene of the fighting of the day before were 
bringing in the wbunded every few moments. 

Many had been brought in the night previous, and received 
proper attention from the surgeons. Those now arriving were 
not found until the light of morning revealed where they had 
fallen. 

In the final charges upon the Confederate breastworks, some 
fell just at the moment the lines were retreating. These could 
not be brought off until the ensuing morning, when a truce was 
sounded for that purpose. 

What a sad sight it was to these lads, who were totally unused 
to such scenes. Here was one with a shattered arm. Another 
was taken from the wagon with one of his lower limbs almost torn 
off below the knee by the fragment of a shell. 

In both cases amputation was found necessary, and the poor 
fellow's, after being lifted from the ambulance, were placed upon 
a stretcher. They were then carried into the church and made 
ready for the knife of the surgeon. 

Ambulances still arrived bringing in wounded, and one young 
soldier, having the side of his face and head terribly torn, was 
lifted from the vehicle. It was a sickening sight, even to the 
older men in the service. 

“Come on, let us go home,” entreated Ned. “I believe I am 
getting sick. Oh, mercy; how some of them groan.” 

Sam and Tom needed no urging, for they too had seen enough, 
and they turned their faces homeward. Our friends had gone 
some distance from the church when Sam observed: 

“A little drop o’ licker would be a mity fine thing fur a feller 


no 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


this mornin’. We’uns feels most oncommon narvous, arter seein’ 
them wounded soljers.” 

“I’ve heard my father say it is better not to take any liquor,” 
remarked Tom, “for it only makes you feel worse.” 

“That’s all right,” returned Sam, “ef a feller don’t git narvous, 
but we’uns gits narvouser all the time, til we’uns has had a drap 
or so uv licker.” 

Just at this time the still house was not in operation, and Sam 
had given the soldiers near his home the last quart he had, conse- 
quently he was obliged to be “narvous” for the present. 

Fighting was resumed not long after Sam and the boys had 
returned home and finished their dinner. Familiarity with 
danger soon causes people to lose their fear of it. This was 

true of the people of D , and those who yesterday at the first 

sound of the artillery went into hiding, today gave it only pass- 
ing notice. 

Sherman pursued the same tactics he had used on the first day 
of battle in his efforts to drive the Confederates from their 
breastworks. 

Repeated charges were made in the face of a galling fire, but 
so wisely had Johnston chosen his position that every effort to 
drive him from his entrenchments proved futile. The Federal 
leader decided to resort to a flank movement, hitherto found suc- 
cessful. 

Our friends sought their couches early, for they were told 
that little danger was to be apprehended during the night. 

Long before daybreak every one in the house was aroused 
from slumbers by a heavy rumbling sound. Tom and Ned sat 
up in their beds and listened with bated breath. The noise con- 
tinued without a moment’s cessation. 

What in the world was taking place? They could stand it 
no longer, but must know what was going on. They rose quickly 
from their beds, and without stopping to remove their night 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


hi 


dress, ran as they were to the sitting room to find their mother 
and father watching from one of the front windows. 

“What is it, father ?” asked Ned, the youngster’s voice 
trembling as he spoke. 

“Nothing to hurt you or any of us,” answered his father 
encouragingly, for he noticed the tremor in the boy’s tone. 

The rumbling noise which had roused the boys from their 
sleep, still continued, and the doctor said : 

“Sherman is sending his artillery to some other point. I sup- 
pose he is going to attempt to drive Johnston from his position 
by flanking.” 

It proved later that the doctor’s supposition was correct, and 
after the heavy guns had all rumbled past the house, regiment 
after regiment went by. Then came the wagon trains, which 
were known by their white canvas covers. 

The boys tried to keep account of the number of wagons by 
making a scratch upon a window sill every time one went by. 
They were busily engaged in keeping this tally, when they heard 
one of the wagoners call in a loud and angry tone to the driver 
in front of him : 

“Hurry up them d — n mewls, and don’t be so devlish slow. 
Ole Joe Johnston is right behind us.” 

This was true, but not in the sense that this fellow meant. 
Of course, the teamsters had no idea why this move was made, 
but most likely thought they were retreating. One thing they all 
knew, and that was that they did not want Joe Johnston to cap- 
ture them. 

Before the day had passed, the great host that for a week had 
occupied the town, had moved a few miles to the east, and the 
streets and fields wore a deserted appearance. Only a few 
bummers and camp followers lingered behind. 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


BATTLE OF NEW HOPE CHURCH 

It was now the twenty-fifth of May, and by that time the 
Federal commander had strongly entrenched himself in the 

neighborhood of New Hope Church, a few miles from D . 

This move was made by the Federal general in his attempt to 
turn Johnston’s flank. 

Skirmishing was kept up briskly until the twenty-seventh. 
Late in the afternoon of that day a heavy engagement or two was 
fought, and the noise of the great guns startled the people of 
the town. 

Two separate attacks had been made upon the Confederate 
lines during this time. Hooker’s corps first attacked Stewart’s 
division, and was repulsed. Then Howard’s corps attacked 
Cleburne’s division, and was driven back with great slaughter. 

Although the Confederates were not entrenched in these two 
engagements, their loss was far below that of the army of the 
North. After the battle of New Hope Church the leaders still 
continued to maneuvre for a position. 

Sherman advanced, under cover of entrenchments, and 
gradually extended his lines towards Atlanta. Johnston moved 
slowly back, seizing every point of vantage and compelling his 
adversary to fight for every inch of ground. 

The town was now relieved of the presence of the army, 
but the Baptist church and courthouse were filled with wounded. 
The benches were knocked to pieces and converted into cots. 
These were made as comfortable as the circumstances would 
allow. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


113 

Sherman moved slowly toward Atlanta and was constantly 

fighting. Many wounded were sent back to D , keeping the 

hospital pretty well filled for the time. The good women of 
the town hurried to the relief of the surgeons. 

One morning Sam MacDonnel, who had been employed by the 
surgeons in making cots, came down to Doctor Archer’s, bringing 
with him Doctor Thomas, the surgeon in charge of the hospital. 

After introducing himself, the latter said courteously: 

“Doctor, I have come to ask a great favor. If agreeable, I 
would like to take my meals with your family, and would be 
pleased to have your assistance at the hospital. 

These requests were made so politely that the doctor did not 
feel that he could refuse; he therefore replied: 

“If our present poor fare suits you, we will be glad to have 
you stay with us. As to giving my help at the hospital, I am 
willing to come at any time that I can be of assistance to the 
poor wounded fellows.” 

The surgeon from this time on came regularly to his meals, 
and Aunt Lucy found her larder much better supplied by reason 
of his coming. Doctor Thomas was a gentleman, and at all 
times acted courteously and kindly towards each member of the 
family with whom he was stopping. 

Several ladies of the town, headed by Mrs. Archer and Mrs. 
Jeffreys, visited the hospital and gave what help they could. 
How much the noble women of the South did during the war 
for the sidk and wounded can scarcely be told. Yet their good 
deeds will never be forgotten. 

They stood by the cots of the wounded through long days and 
nights, and ministered to them with gentle touch. They raised 
the head of the dying soldier and wiped the dew of death from 
his brow. They stooped to catch the last whispered message to 
friends far away, and regarded its delivery as a sacred duty. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


114 

Though there was much to do in the hospitals, but little work 
went on outside. The lads of the town, under the existing state 
of affairs, were left pretty much to themselves. Being obliged 
to remain very close about home, they were often at a loss for 
amusement. 

No thought was given to such a thing as having school, for it 
was impossible for any one to know when the town would be 
occupied by another army. The people simply drifted along 
from day to day, trusting to kind Providence to care for them. 

Had it not been for the guards about the officers’ tents in 
their father’s yard, Tom and Ned would soon have lost their 
goats. They were fortunate enough to keep them from going for 
a stew for the soldiers. 

The flesh of young goats, properly cared for and roasted as 
it should be, furnishes a dish not to be despised. To men long 
accustomed to a diet of hard tack and bacon, a stew or roast 
of tender young goat would have been a feast indeed. 

The boys put the goats through a course of training whenever 
the chance offered. They had nothing from which to make 
harness, and in lieu thereof a little yoke was used. Sami had 
made for them a small wagon, and the lads got a good deal of 
pleasure in driving the goats about. 

The warm summer coming on, the boys began to long for the 
fields and woods. Very soon crowds of them were roaming 
about the battle-fields or finding their way to some good bathing 
place on the Pumpkin Vine River. 

During the few days the town had been occupied by Sherman, 
no one was allowed outside the lines without a pass. For this 
reason very little was known of what was taking place in the 
country around. 

One morning about this time Tom and Ned obtained leave 
to take a walk a short way from town. Jim was to accompany 
them, and they decided to go out along the Atlanta road. Most 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


US 

of the fighting about the town had taken place upon the south- 
east, and for that reason the boys chose this route. 

What a scene of desolation met their eyes at every step of the 
way. Fences were entirely gone and fields were trampled and 
looked as if nothing would ever grow in them again. 

Houses were pulled to pieces or entirely destroyed, and if left 
standing at all, doors, windows and floors were gone. Only the 
frames were left to tell the story of their ruin. 

Where the size and appearance of the residence indicated a 
wealthy owner, the yard and garden were frequently torn up in 
search of valuables. 

Many persons when they knew the army was near, hurriedly 
buried plate and money near their houses. In some instances 
the work of hiding had been clumsily done, and the searchers 
found what they sought with very little trouble. 

Some distance out of town the boys came upon lines of breast- 
works. Mile after mile they extended across the fields and 
through the woods. This was Sherman’s first line of entrench- 
ments, for there were still others thrown up beyond as the 
Federal s advanced. 

The boys in their walk followed a line of earthworks into a 
large body of woods. All at once Tom and Ned were startled by 
a loud cry from Jim, who had lingered a short way in the rear. 

Turning round to ascertain the reason for the excitement, they 
saw the boy pointing to some object upon the ground several 
yards distant from the breastworks. 

The lads were yet staring about them, when the frightened 
negro cried : 

“Fo Gawd’s sake! look at de dead man!” Then moving his 
shaking hand a little more towards the right, the boy continued : 
“Befo de Lawd, I sees a nudder one.” 

It was a fact, for there, stark and stiff in death but a few 
yards apart, lay the bodies of two Federal soldiers. They must 


n6 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


have been sharp-shooters, for they were lying in small rifle pits, 
and there they were stationed when death in the shape of a 
minnie-ball struck them down. 

The boys tarried just long enough to take one more look at 
the distressing sight, and then calling Jim to follow, they hurried 
away from the spot. Immediately on arriving at home, their 
father was told what they had discovered, and he reported the 
matter to Doctor Thomas. 

The next day some men who were still on duty about the 
hospital were sent to bury the bodies. Jim went along to point 
out the place, and the remains were carefully put away in shal- 
low graves. There they stayed until after the war, when they 
were taken up and re-interred in the National Cemetery at 
Marietta. 

Upon the bodies of these soldiers letters were found by which 
they were identified, and their graves were marked with their 
names. Yet there were hundreds of others who were never 
recognized, and who sleep among the unknown dead in the ceme- 
teries throughout our country. 


CHAPTER NINETEEN 


NED FINDS TREASURE 

Sam MacDonnel, who with Betty, had long since returned 
home, stopped in at Doctor Archer’s one morning early in June 
to see his young friends, Tom and Ned. Sam had come to tell 
the lads where they could find more blackberries than they could 
“tote” away in a week. 

With Jim to take care of them, they set off one morning soon 
after to gather what berries they could before night. Aunt Lucy 
put up a nice lunch for the boys in one of the buckets. Then 
Tom and Ned said goodbye to their mother and Mary, and 
away they started for the berry field in fine spirits. 

They had gone a mile or more when they left the main road 
and turned into a by-path, which led them to the place they 
were seeking. The berry patch was in a small clearing of little 
more than an acre. The berries were found in large quantities. 

The three boys went to work very industriously, and were not 
long in filling one bucket. They then decided to rest for a while 
and eat their lunch. For this purpose they went to a spring not 
far away, as all of them were not only hungry, but thirsty also 
by this time. 

In years past this spring had furnished water to a family who 
had lived in the old house which stood in the clearing. The water 
was fine, and the boys felt much refreshed after taking a draught 
of it. 

Having eaten their lunch, the berry-pickers rested for an hour 
or more, and then set about their work again. Ned was putting 


n8 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


his berries in a large gourd, and was some distance from his 
brother and the negro boy. 

To enliven his task, Jim sang loudly as he worked : 

“Massa had a yaller gal, 

He fotch her from de Souf ; 

Her har it curled so berry tight, 

She couldn’t shet her mouf.” 

If the “yaller gal” of the song could not shut her mouth, it 
was pretty conclusively proved that Ned Archer could open his 
own, and that very wide. 

Just as the negro boy finished the last line of the refrain, he 
was startled by a loud scream. Tom was working near by, and he 
and Jim turned to ascertain the cause of the cry they had heard. 
They saw Ned running towards them as if he was striving for a 
wager. 

The progress of the boy was somewhat impeded, for he had 
worn his shoes to protect his feet from the briers. Still, as Jim 
afterwards said, “dat chap got ober de groun’ monstous fast.” 
And no wonder, for less than half a score of yards behind him 
came an immense black snake. 

This particular serpent belonged to that family of reptiles 
known as racers, and is considered rather dangerous. Many 
persons even prefer having a brush with a rattler. 

Back in his old home in Tennessee Jim had often encountered 
such snakes, and he knew just what to do in this instance. With 
the reptile pursuing, Ned ran rapidly towards the negro boy. 

With head uplifted and tongue darting from side to side, the 
vicious serpent raced after the lad, who was scared almost out 
of his senses. 

Putting forth every effort in his power, the boy sped past Jim, 
who by this time had a large stick in his hand. Springing for- 
ward boldly, the negro struck the snake a blow upon the head, 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


1 19 

killing it instantly. Ned was then called back by his brother, 
who had watched Jim as he killed the reptile. 

“Yo axed me what fo I cut dat stick dis rnawnin,” said Jim. 
“Now you see it berry good stick to hab.” 

“Indeed it is, Jim ,” Ned answered thankfully. “Til never for- 
get you for killing that awful snake.” 

“Where did you first see him, Ned?” asked his brother. 

“I vfas picking away,” returned Ned, “listening to Jim’s song, 
when all at once it slid off the bush right beside me. Oh, Lordy ! 
how it scared me.” 

“It am no wunder,” said the black boy. “He am one ob de 
mos bigges old racers I ebber seed in my life.” 

For a moment or two longer the three stood thoughtfully, as 
they looked at the now harmless snake. Then with a kick at the 
carcass, Jim said: 

“We had better pick de res ob de berries.” 

Being anxious to finish their work, so that they might have 
time left to play about the woods, they soon filled the remaining 
bucket. Tom then proposed a chase after some young squirrels, 
for this was a kind of sport out of which they got much fun. 

“I seed sum nestes back in de woods,” observed Jim, “and I 
spec we kin find plenty ob de young squirls aroun.” 

“If you fellows want to run after squirrels this warm day, 
you can,” said Ned lazily. “I am going to take a look through 
the old house.” 

“And find much gold and other hidden treasure,” cried Tom, 
mockingly. For be it know that Master Ned, like most lads 
who were fond of reading adventures, usually associated de- 
serted houses with concealed wealth. 

“You mjay laugh,” replied Ned, “but you’d feel very cheap if 
I found something sure enough.” 

Tom only laughed again, as he and Jim struck off into the 


120 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


woods, and very soon started a squirrel. They found great 
sport in chasing the little fellows from tree to tree, especially 
when they discovered them in the small pines. 

Once a squirrel was sighted the boys ran hallooing below, 
throwing bits of wood or small stones at the frightened little 
animal as it jumped from pine to pine. 

Ned waited until his brother and Jim were closely engaged 
at their sport, and then turned his steps towards the old house. 

After entering he climbed the rickety stairway to the loft 
above and made a search of that part of the building. He looked 
closely, letting nothing escape him, but no signs of treasure 
rewarded his efforts. 

The lad went to the floor below to take a peep around. He 
carefully looked into every crack and crevice between the logs, 
raised up the boards forming the floor, and even removed some 
of the large flat stones of the hearth, but found nothing. 

Growing tired of the search, he sat down upon the bottom 
step of the stairs, murmuring dejectedly: 

“How Tom and Jim will laugh,” and as he said this, his atten- 
tion was attracted by a small piece of mortar rolling from the 
chimney. It had evidently been loosened while he was punching 
about the fire-place. 

What a small thing the falling down of that bit of mortar. 
Yet trivial as it was, it led our young friend to victory. 

Springing from his seat on the steps, the boy exclaimed: 

“Hello there! Where did you drop from? I’ll take a peep 
up that way.” 

He did take a peep, but could see nothing but the sooty walls 
of the chimney and a patch of blue summer sky shining far 
above. He lowered his gaze and took one more glance at the 
sides of the chimney about half way from the top. 

There the excited lad saw something that caused his heart to 




"I have found the gold.” 




THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


121 


throb wildly. Thrust into a crevice just beyond his reach was a 
short stick, and from the end of this stick hung what appeared 
to be a medium sized gourd. 

Ned muttered as he gazed at the object above him: 

“That’s nothing but an old gourd. I’ll bet some one hung it 
up there about forty years ago. I’ll get a pole and knock it down 
for luck.” 

He found what he wanted just outside the door, and hurried 
back with it to the chimney. The first thrust of the pole brought 
dowfr a shower of soot that fairly strangled and blinded the 
youngster. This made him angry, and he gave a whack at the 
supposed gourd, and down it came. 

When the lad saw lying at his feet, not a gourd, but a buck- 
skin pouch, he shouted for joy and capered about the room. Be- 
sides, when it struck the floor Ned had heard a very pleasant 
metallic jingle. 

The pouch was tied with a leather thong, and this the boy 
unfastened as quickly as his trembling fingers would allow. He 
made several ineffectual attempts before he succeeded in getting 
the bag opened, and when he saw that it really contained some- 
thing of great value, he fairly went wild. 

The pouch was filled with gold coins, and the delighted boy, 
with his prize in his hand, ran about the room shouting wildly : 

“I have found the gold ! I have found the gold !” 

By this time the other boys were returning from their chase. 
They were surprised to see Ned run from the building holding 
the pouch at arm’s length. He was unable to restrain his joy, 
and he danced excitedly around his brother and Jim. 

“Fo de Lawd’s sake, what’s de matter wid dat chap anyway?” 
asked the negro boy with a grin, as he watched Ned’s capers. 
“Hab him gone plum crazy ?” 

The only reply the lad made to this was to thrust his hand 
in the pouch and draw forth a handful of ten and twenty-dollar 


1 22 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


gold pieces. Tom and Jim could simply stare with open mouthed 
astonishment at the sight of so much wealth. 

“What am you ebber gwinter do wid so much chink?” the 
latter inquired enviously, as Ned slowly dropped the coins back 
into the bag. 

“I will take the money home to father,” the boy replied 
calmly. “He will know what is best to do with it.” 

Night was now not far away, and Tom and Jim each taking a 
bucket of berries, they all set off towards home. Ned held firmly 
to the bag, and when the money was counted that evening, it was 
found to amount to nearly five hundred dollars. 

“Do not mention the finding of this gold to any one,” cautioned 
the doctor. “The raiders would not hesitate to murder us in 
order to get it. At the proper time we will try to find the owner.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY 


THE PASSING OF ARMIES 

For some time after the adventure of the boys at the house 
in the woods, no event of importance occurred in which our 
friends, the Archers, were concerned. 

Work in the hospital went on about as usual, though there 
were not so many sick and wounded as at first. Those who were 
discharged as cured had been sent back to their commands. 

A far greater number were sleeping their last sleep in the shal- 
low graves not far from the hospitals. There they await the 
summons of the Great Captain, when they shall appear to 
answer the final roll call. 

It was near the middle of July when the unwelcome report 

reached D that General Johnston had been removed from 

command of the Confederate army. President Davis, for some 
reason, had appointed General Hood in his stead. 

This news caused great regret in the South, but particularly in 
Georgia. General Hood was brave enough, but he lacked many 
of those qualities that go to make up the successful commander. 

General Sherman had been heard to declare while in D 

that not a straggler, wagon, ambulance or mule had been picked 
up in the rear of Johnston’s army. It was absolutely true, that 
in a retreat of more than three hundred miles, he had conducted 
his army without loss of material or prisoners. 

Fighting took place ’round Atlanta, almost every day, after 
the change had been made in commanders. The sound of can- 
nonading was heard in D , and perhaps still farther away, 

for the big guns boomed incessantly. 


124 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


On the night of September 1st, Hood, finding that he could no 
longer hold the city, blew up his magazines and hurriedly de- 
stroyed what supplies he could not move. 

For some days following the fall of Atlanta, the people in and 

around D heard nothing of Hood or his army. Where he 

had gone, or what he intended doing, could only be conjectured. 

On the last day of September, Tom and Ned Archer, with a 
number of other boys, were playing near the southern end of 
town. Tired out at last, from running and jumping, they stopped 
for a rest. 

They were reposing upon the ground in various comfortable 
attitudes, when the distant thumping of a drum was heard. 

The youngsters paused in their talk to listen. Nearer and 
louder came the sound of the drum, and in a few minutes an 
officer’s voice was heard giving a command. 

The lads rose to their feet and gazed along the Atlanta road. 
Suddenly the head of a column of soldiers came in sight. It 
was the vanguard of Hood’s army, on the march to Tennessee. 

Without waiting to see anything further, the boys, with one 
accord, started upon the run for home to bear the news. In 
half an hour nearly every person in town was aware of the 
approach of the supposed enemy, and the greatest consternation 
prevailed. 

The lads were very much excited when they left their play- 
ground. On seeing the soldiers, they did not stop an instant to 
notice whether the uniforms were gray or blue. 

The folks naturally supposed that Sherman was retreating 
before Hood, for the latter bore the name of a fighting general. 
No one had the slightest idea of the actual state of affairs. 

The citizens feared that the Federals, being irritated by their 
defeat, would not be so lenient as before. What, then, w*as their 
agreeable surprise to see, not Sherman’s men, but Hood’s, enter- 
ing the town. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


125 


From the advance guard it was learned that Atlanta had been 
captured by the Federals, and Hood was on his way to invade 
Tennessee. No one in town was molested by the Confederates, 
who thought only of finding good camping places, where they 
might secure some rest. 

A tent for General Hood’s headquarters was pitched upon a 
lot not far from the courthouse. The weather being very pleasant, 
the commander preferred this to occupying one of the many 
vacant houses in the town. 

On the morning following the arrival of the army, Tom and 
Ned Archer went up to headquarters to have a look at the Con- 
federate leader. 

They halted when they saw a guard, but the general noticed 
them looking earnestly at his tent and invited them very politely 
to enter. For half an hour he chatted with the young Virginians. 

The officer expressed a desire to visit the hospital. There- 
upon the boys offered to go with him and point out the way to 
the building. 

General Hood accepted the escort and accompanied them to 
the courthouse, where a few wounded soldiers were in charge 
of the surgeon. Mrs. Archer was at the hospital, and was 
greatly surprised to see her boys with the commander. She 
had no idea that they had fallen in with such distinguished 
company, for both were at home when she left. 

The general was introduced to Doctor Thomas by Tom Archer. 
He was then presented to the mother of his young friends and 
also to several other good women, who were paying a morning’s 
visit to the wounded. 

“I consider myself fortunate this morning,” said General Hood, 
with a courtly bow. “In these days I do not often enjoy the 
pleasure of meeting and conversing with the ladies. It is a rare 
treat, I assure you.” 

Doctor Thomas showed his visitor through the hospital, and 


126 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


after some talk upon the subject of the war, the general returned 
to headquarters, accompanied by the lads. 

The people of the town were aroused long before daylight the 
ensuing morning by the noise of the army upon the move. Many 
regiments had already passed out .of towti, going towards 
Altoona. 

By noon the artillery, wagon-trains and rear guard of cavalry 
had left the town behind, and that section had seen its last of 
Hood and his army. 

The camp-fires left by the Confederate soldiers had scarcely 
grown cold when the bulk of Sherman’s forces entered the town 
for the second time. 

Hood was encamped in D for thirty-six hours. The pur- 

suing troops remained one day and night, breaking camp shortly 
after daylight upon October the fifth. The people were glad to 
see them go, for supplies were running short. 

General Thomas, afterward styled “The Rock of Chicka- 
mauga,” had his tent pitched in the yard of Doctor Archer. 
Guards were stationed at the gates leading thereto, and also at 
the well. The fence around the house was spared, but the garden 
fence, posts and all, went to make the camp fires. 

General Sherman has been credited with the remark that “War 
is hell,” and no one living upon the line of his march will 
take issue with him upon this question. Only those who have 
lived through a war can realize what it means. 

The people of D and vicinity were not destined to suffer 

such calamities as befell Atlanta, Columbia, and other places. 
And yet they experienced a good portion of war’s horrors, and 
though hoping for a different termination, they gladly welcomed 
the end. 

Three large armlies had passed through the town. The first 
had been quartered upon the people for several days, and had 
foraged the country for miles around. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


127 


This section had been swept bare of everything. Grain, hay, 
cattle, swine and poultry were taken wherever found, and people 
who had hidden nothing were left destitute. 

Swarms of foragers rode through the land, stopping at every 
house, and taking by force whatever the people were unwilling to 
give them. 

Cattle and hogs were shot down, skinned where they fell, and 
the meat carried into camp. Hundreds of hides of different ani- 
mals were scattered through the fields and woods long after the 
soldiers were gone. The loss caused by these plundering raiders 
could scarcely be estimated. 

In the wake of the army followed stragglers and bummers, 
openly stealing wherever and whatever they could. Most of 
these men were looking for money or jewelry. Every conceiv- 
able place was ransacked in the hunt for valuables. 

In many cases the earth was torn up in gardens and yards, 
and we may be sure that both loud and deep were the curses 
when neither gold, silver nor jewelry rewarded the efforts of 
the searchers. 

Raids by cavalry became quite annoying, and hardly a week 
passed without a visit or two from these scouts. 

Frequently they came in small squads, of not more than a 
dozen, stopping at some house to ask for a little information, and 
then pushing on. On one occasion a regiment or two halted 
in town and remained just long enough to send foragers into 
the surrounding country to sieze whatever they could lay hands 
upon. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 


VISITED BY BUMMERS 

One morning, near the middle of October, a small squad of 
Federal cavalry in charge of an officer rode into town. They 
went into camp in the grove, just below Doctor Archer’s home. 

The doctor was at the hospital, assisting the surgeon. Al- 
though Jim had not been employed very closely of late, on this 
particular morning he was engaged at some work not far from 
the house. 

Tom and Ned were in the back yard playing with their goats. 
Hearing some one ride up to the front gate, the lads came racing 
to see whom* it might be. Two men of rough appearance, but 
looking like soldiers, were just dismounting. 

They secured their horses to a post and then walked up to the 
house and knocked very boisterously at the hall door. Tom did 
not like the looks of these fellows at all, and knowing that his 
father was absent, determined to stay about and see what they 
wanted. That he acted wisely will later appear. 

Liz was sent to answer the call at the door, and the men 
pushed past her and stamped rudely across the hall, to the sitting 
room, the door of which stood open. 

Mrs. Archer, who was engaged with some sewing, looked 
’round to learn what all the noise meant. She saw the men stand- 
ing near the door, and at once judged them for what they really 
were, a pair of rascally bummers. 

“What do you w&nt in here, and what do you mean by coming 
into my house in this fashion?” she indignantly inquired. 

Seeing that the lady did not fear them, the men were con- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


129 


siderably taken aback. But one of the fellows, plucking up 
courage, said very roughly: 

“We’ve bin sent here to sarch this house, an’ we air goin’ to 
do it.” 

Tom very opportunely came in at this moment, followed by 
Ned. Making a sign to attract his mother’s attention, the boy 
pointed in the direction of the camp. 

Seeing that his mother understood his signal, the lad whispered 
to his brother : 

“Ned, you run to the grove and ask that officer to come here. 
I will stay and keep an eye on these chaps.” 

Ned ran as fast as his legs would carry him to where the 
squad of men were camped in the woods. Going up to the 
officer, whom he knew by his uniform, he asked hurriedly: 

“Will you please go up home with me? Some men are there 
and say they are going to search the house.” 

The lieutenant, who had made himself a seat by placing his 
saddle upon a stump, rose at Ned’s request, and buckling on his 
sword, said to one of his men standing near : 

“Sergeant, I will be gone for a short time. In the meanwhile 
the camp is in your charge. Should I send this lad back for you, 
come without delay with half a dozen men. I may have some 
work for you.” 

Without further words, the officer started for the house, while 
Ned kept at his side by putting forth his best efforts. 

It had required but a little while for the boy to go for the officer 
and return with him, yet in that time matters were taking a 
serious turn at the house. 

Upon the bummers declaring they were going to search the 
house, Mrs. Archer replied fearlessly: 

“You are not going to search this house, and the sooner you 
get away from here, the better.” 


130 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Then the other fellow, who hitherto had been silent, very 
insolently remarked: 

“Now, lookee here, ’oman. We’s goin’ to sarch this air house, 
beeuz we’s got orders, an’ orders is orders, an’ ef eny one tries 
to stop us, they is goin’ to git hurt.” 

As he thus spoke, the rascal drew forth a large six-shooter 
and brandished it over his head. 

Then a sudden and unexpected turn of affairs took place. Very 
sudden, and entirely unexpected, it was indeed, to these bold 
knights of the road. Very timely and welcome it proved to the 
lady of the house. 

The fellow was just giving his ugly looking weapon a second 
flourish when the lieutenant, without the slightest noise, stepped 
into the hall. 

Pausing a moment just out of sight of the bummers, he heard 
one of the rascals say: 

“Bill, you go ahead and sarch the house. I’ll watch these air 
folks, an’ they had best keep quiet.” 

“What are you doing in this house?” asked the officer, as he 
entered the sitting room and confronted the astonished villains. 

The two rascals looked at one another like a couple of boys 
caught in a watermelon patch by the owner, and seemed to think : 

“Where in the devil did he come from?” 

Until the officer appeared upon the scene, the rogues had no 
idea that there was a soldier within miles of the town. Receiv- 
ing no answer to his question, the lieutenant again demanded : 

“What are you doing in this house?” 

“We w&s sent here to sarch fur terbacker,” one of them 
replied. 

“Who gave you orders to search this house?” asked the officer 
very sternly. 

“General Kilpatrick gev us our orders,” the other fellow 
defiantly asserted. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


131 

“If you have an order from General Kilpatrick, let me look 
at it,” commanded the lieutenant. 

“Our orders is verbal,” replied the bummer, who had been 
called Bill, and who was beginning to feel that he was caught in 
a trap. 

“You’ll not search this house on verbal orders,” and the officer 
now spoke in a tone that promised anything but a pleasant time 
for these thieves. 

“How’s yer goin’ to stop hit? They’s two of us, an’ only 
one of you, an’ we’s got pistols agin your sword.” 

The officer made no reply to this evident threat, but turning to 
Ned and speaking rapidly he said : 

“Johnny, run to the camp and tell my sergeant to come here 
at once with six men.” Then looking sternly at the scoundrels, 
he told them if they were not out of the house before his men 
arrived, he would swing them to the nearest tree. 

The crestfallen scamps saw that their game was played and 
they had lost. How they hated to go. From the appearance of 
the house, they scented rich booty, and expected to make a big 
haul and ride away loaded with spoils of war. But — 

“The best laid plans of men and mice gang aft aglee,” and so 
these bummers found it. 

As they mounted their horses, one of them shouted fiercely : 

“We’ll have them straps took from your shoulders when we 
sees General Kilpatrick.” 

“Hurry up there, sergeant,” the lieutenant called. “Here 
is some work I think the men will take much pleasure in doing.” 

The bummers saw the soldiers coming, and they stopped to 
say no more, but whipping up their horses, rode for their lives. 
It was amusing to see them fleeing from that grim looking 
sergeant. 

“I would like to send a volley after them,” the officer laugh- 
ingly said, “but we might draw the attention of Confederate 


132 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


scouts by firing. Let them go, they will get caught before long, 
and then a rope, and goodbye to them.” 

Mrs. Archer thanked the lieutenant for his timely assistance, 
and that evening sent Tom and Ned to the camp with some 
freshly b^ked bread. This was a great treat to the men, who 
had been living upon hardtack for months. 

One of the lieutenant’s men came to the well somewhere about 
supper time, got water and borrowed a coffeepot from Aunt 
Lucy. 

In the vessel, which was returned before dark, the old negro 
woman found a present of some “sho nuff” coffee. This we may 
be sure she took straightway to her beloved mistress, who in- 
sisted that Aunt Lucy herself should use most of it. 

The soldiers in the grove built no fire after dark, and when the 
boys went out in the morning they found the camp deserted. It 
was always a mystery to our friends what these soldiers were 
seeking. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 


TOM AND NED PRISONERS 

A large body of Confederate cavalry was the next to occupy 
the grove, near Doctor Archer’s home, following the departure 
of the lieutenant and his men. 

From the wornout appearance of both men and horses, these 
soldiers must have been riding at a pretty lively gait before 
reaching the town. Not apprehending any danger of pursuit 
just at this time, they halted to give their animals a rest. 

Our young friends, Tom and Ned, spent considerable time 
about the camp, where they never lacked for entertainment. 
These soldiers were in Georgia what Mosby’s men were in Vir- 
ginia, and many a tale of exciting adventure was heard by the 
lads as they stood ’round the camp-fires of these rangers. 

One afternoon, while the soldiers were yet in the grove, the 
boys went to look after their goats, but found that two of the 
young ones were missing. Aunt Lucy thought she had seen 
them about two hours before browsing about the lower end of 
the orchard. 

Ned ran into the house to tell his mother that his brother and 
himself were going to look for the goats. The boys then crossed 
the orchard and went in the direction of Tazewell’s. 

When the latter place was reached, they were informed that 
the goats had passed that way but an hour or two before, going 
out the western road. 

They immediately set off at a trot, hoping to overtake them 
before they had gone very far. They had travelled about a 


134 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


mile when the missing animals were found grazing at the road- 
side. Just as soon as the lively young goats were started in the 
proper direction, they struck off in a funny little lope and left the 
boys far in the rear. 

Seeing some ripe chinquapins in the bushes near the road, the 
lads thought it would be a good idea to gather a few before re- 
turning home. 

The nuts Were not so plentiful at this point as they had sup- 
posed, and they went farther and farther along the highway. 
Finally, they found a good place and stopped to fill their pockets. 
By this time they were nearly two miles from home, but had no 
thought of danger. 

Now and then a sharp exclamation was heard from one or the 
other of the youngsters as he pricked his fingers with a bur. 
Otherwise all was quiet in their vicinity. 

Ned was upon the point of announcing to his brother that he 
had one pocket filled with chinquapins, when Tom exclaimed in 
a tone of annoyance: 

“Oh, my gracious! here comes some Yankees!” 

He turned and looked along the road towards the west and 
saw two Federal cavalrymen riding very leisurely in the direc- 
tion of the town. 

Long ere this these lads had been taught to exercise caution 
in the presence of strangers, and Tom whispered to his brother 
as the men approached : 

“Be very careful what you say if these soldiers ask any ques- 
tions. They may be scouts looking for our men in town.” 

“I’ll let you do the talking,” returned Ned. 

By this time the horsemen were near enough to speak to the 
boys, and the one riding in front called to them: 

“What are you chaps doing there?” 

“Picking chinquapins,” answered Tom. 

“Where do you live when you are at home?” was next asked. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


135 

“We live in town, about two miles from here,” replied Tom, 
who wondered what these questions meant. 

“Well, you will have to go with us back to camp,” the cavalry- 
man rejoined. “So come on, both of you, and we will give you 
a ride.” 

Removing his foot from one of the stirrups, and extending 
his right hand as he spoke, the soldier quickly hoisted Tom to a 
seat behind his saddle. 

Ned had just made up his mind to make a break for liberty, 
when he felt himself roughly lifted from the ground by the collar 
of his roundabout. In a trice he was seated on the trooper’s 
horse. Then both cavalrymen, with the lads clinging to them, 
rode off at a gallop, halting upon reaching a body of timber. 

The place, which the Federal soldiers had selected for their 
temporary camp, was about three miles from town. The boys 
were taken before the commander, when they had dismounted, 
and this officer, who was addressed as colonel, told the youngsters 
they would be detained until morning. 

They were placed in charge of a soldier who was ordered to 
take them to the rear, and there await further instructions. 

While the lads Were following their guard, they could see, 
from the number of men around them 1 , that they far outnumbered 
those encamped in town. 

Tom came to the conclusion, from the questions asked by the 
colonel, that the Confederate soldiers were to be taken by sur- 
prise. 

He sorrowfully thought of the worn and weary condition of 
the men encamped near his home, and he longed to help them 
in some way. He now understood why his brother and himself 
had been detained. 

The two boys reached that part of the camp where they were 
to spend the night, and were told by the guard to sit down and 
make themselves comfortable. The brothers took a seat upon a 


136 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


log near by and watched the soldiers who were getting ready for 
supper. 

Half an hour completed their preparations, and the lads were 
handed some hardtack, fried bacon and coffee, and were invited 
to go to work upon it. This they were not loath to do, and as 
they were both very hungry, and the coffee was genuine, they 
enjoyed the meal without allowing themselves to be disturbed by 
their situation. 

There was a stream of water not far from camp, and as soon 
as supper was over, the horses were watered and fed. By this 
time darkness had fallen over the wood, and the soldiers gath- 
ered ’round the fires and smoked and talked. A few, who were 
fond of that kind of sport, produced packs of greasy cards and 
passed the time playing such games as suited their fancy. 

Presently the time arrived for the men to turn in, and one of 
them said, as he tossed the lads a blanket: 

“Crawl under that six-mule coach there, little Johnny Rebs, 
and go to sleep,” pointing to a big army wagon as he spoke. 

The boys promptly obeyed the first part of this command, and 
were glad to get under the vehicle, but they did not go to sleep. 
Indeed they could not, for they were thinking of home and the 
anxiety of those awaiting them there. Tom also thought of the 
soldiers, whom he was certain would be attacked in the morning, 
and this worried him greatly. 

Sentinels had been posted upon the road, east and west of the 
camp, but as the woods extended north and south, no guards 
were stationed upon either of those sides. 

Tom Archer, though apparently taking no notice of things 
about him, had been on the alert from the time he entered the 
camp, and not only observed this disposition of the pickets, but 
kept in mind whatever else he might use to advantage. 

The fixed determination of the lad was to escape as soon as 
possible. For this reason, he resolved to keep watch upon every- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


137 


thing that he thought might, in any way, assist him to gain his 
liberty. The danger of the undertaking he seemed not to con- 
sider. 

The boys noticed, when they crept under the wagon, that the 
leaves lay thick upon the ground. These were used to lie upon, 
while the army blanket made them a warm cover. 

Carefully Tom drew the blanket over his brother and himself. 
The moment he became convinced that he ran no risk of being 
noticed by those around, he whispered to Ned that he intended 
to escape that night. 

The soldiers were fatigued, and they were sound asleep as 
soon, almost, as they were rolled up in their blankets. The fellow 
who was supposed to watch our young friends put an overcoat 
’round his shoulders and sat himself against a tree, not far from 
the wagon. He concerned himself very little about his prisoners. 

Tom peeped slyly over the edge of the blanket, now and then, 
to see how things looked about the camp. One by one, the fires 
died out, and save for the stamping of horses and the snoring 
of men, all was quiet. 

Deep darkness fell upon the woods and objects were scarcely 
distinguishable a few rods away. The boys had a hard time to 
keep awake, and the hours dragged slowly along as they battled 
manfully with sleep. 

It was nearly an hour before midnight, when Tom Archer 
decided that the time had come, if he intended to make an effort 
to escape. Extending his arm under the blanket, he touched his 
brother to see of he was awake. 

Ned answered by seizing Tom’s hand with a strong grip, and 
the latter whispered softly : 

“Be ready now, and when I cough, creep out and follow me.” 

The moment Ned had been warned, Tom raised himself slowly 
until he was sitting up. Keeping the blanket up to his chin, the 
lad took a good look at the guard. The tired soldier sat with 


138 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


head thrown back and mouth wide open, emitting snores that 
were both loud and unmusical. 

Tom quietly turned his body and looked behind him. Nothing 
but woods and darkness in that direction. The lad found that 
the soldiers were all in front of him, but somewhat to the right, 
and towards the road. 

On the left were picketed two long lines of horses. The ani- 
mals stood facing each other, with a space of eight or ten feet 
between the lines. 

For fully five minutes Tom sat taking in the situation and 
then he determined to make the first attempt toward the rear. 
He would move to the left, between the lines of horses, and then 
on through the woods. 

Having made up his mind, he coughed lightly and crawled 
from beneath the blanket. When he was some distance from the 
wagon, he rose to his feet, and Ned was there beside him, ready 
for the next step. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 


ESCAPE FROM THE CAMP 

Tom paused long enough to whisper to his brother and acquaint 
him with the course he expected to pursue in escaping from the 
camp. He pointed out that the horses would hide them from 
view of the soldiers should any of them happen to awake. 

Without accident or discovery, the lads reached the animals 
and began to make their way very carefully between the two 
lines. They had gone but a short distance, when Tom halted 
and cautioned Ned to be on the lookout for saddles, which were 
placed in piles, three or four feet apart, along the way. 

The boys kept a close watch towards the camp, as they moved 
cautiously along. Indeed, Tom had his attention so fixed on 
what was upon his right that he forgot that danger might lurk 
elsewhere. It was not long, however, before he realized that it 
was not well to look in one direction all the time. 

More than half the distance between the two lines of horses 
had been traversed, when Tom Archer happened to glance to- 
wards the front. What was his consternation to behold a soldier 
lying across his path. Two or three steps more, and the boy 
would have stumbled over the prostrate man. 

Here was a very serious obstacle in his path, for which Tom 
had made no calculation. The soldier was lying face downward, 
his head resting upon his arms. Apparently, the man was fast 
asleep, but upon this our young friend could not count with any 
degree of certainty. 

For a moment the lad hesitated, hardly knowing what to do. 


140 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Then he decided that the best plan would be to turn back, and 
try his chance outside the other rank of horses. He was upon 
the point of starting to put his plan into execution when the sol- 
dier sent forth a loud snore. 

Joyfully Tom heard this welcome sound, and he resolved to 
risk all, and go straight ahead. Giving his brother a precaution- 
ary signal, he stepped with utmost care over the form of the 
sleeping soldier. 

Ned, though much excited, succeeded in passing this dangerous 
point without accident, and quickly joined Tom, who stood wait- 
ing. In five minutes more the lads had safely passed beyond the 
last of the camp-fires. 

Although our young friends had left their captors behind 
them, they were not yet out of all danger. The picket post was 
still ahead of them, and the boys were running a great risk in 
trying to avoid it, for they were not aware of its exact location. 

For that reason Tom determined to make a detour through the 
woods, and by this means escape the notice of the sentinels, who 
were stationed on the road leading towards the town. 

For the time Tom and Ned were between the lines of horses, 
they found no difficulty in getting along, as the animals, upon 
either side, served as a guide. Now they were obliged to travel 
at a veritable snail’s pace for fear of stumbling and making a 
noise, and thereby attracting the attention of the pickets. 

That they might not become separated in the dark, Ned was 
told to take hold of the end of his brother’s jacket. For some 
distance the boys proceeded in this order without meeting any 
trouble, when Tom, all at once, felt a strong pull from behind. 

“Look over there to the right. Somebody has built a fire in the 
road,” whispered Ned, with great caution. 

Sure enough, when Tom looked in the direction indicated, he 
saw a fire and two or three soldiers sitting around it. These 
were the men who were keeping watch upon the road, and the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


141 

boys now felt that escape was assured. Their spirits rose as 
their chances of freedom increased. 

Taking care not to make the slightest noise, they pushed 
deeper into the woods, but not far enough to lose sight of the 
blaze at the outpost. 

The two boys pursued this course for some ten minutes or 
more, when Tom decided that it was time to turn his steps 
directly towards the road, feeling sure there was now no danger 
from the picket. 

Once, while they were cautiously making their way in the 
direction of the highway, they were brought to a halt by hearing 
some one moving in the camp. 

With beating hearts and halting steps the lads waited a mo- 
ment, when hearing nothing further to alarm them, they pressed 
on and were soon standing in the middle of the road. With one 
glance at the picket post, they clasped hands and ran swiftly 
towards town. 

The boys had travelled about half the distance home, and were 
still keeping up a lively gait, when they were suddenly and un- 
expectedly brought to a halt by some one springing into the road 
in front of them. 

They were at first terribly frightened, but to their great relief, 
they heard a well known voice crying : 

“Whar in de debbil hab yo’ boys bin all dis night? Don’t yo’ 
tink Marse Tom and Mis’ Mary got nuthin’ to do but worry 
dey selves ’bout yo’ all? Sides dat, I’se been runnin’ all ober 
town lookin’ fo’ yo’.” 

Tom quickly explained the cause that had kept his brother 
and himself from home until such an unusual hour. The faith- 
ful negro boy had been scouring the neighborhood since dusk. 

He heard from the folks, who were caring for Tazewell’s home 
in their absence, that the boys had passed that way late in the 
afternoon, but nothing further was seen of them. 


142 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Going on out the road, Jim saw the pickets, but none of the 
soldiers noticed him. Fearing that the two lads were prisoners, 
and not wishing to return home without accomplishing some- 
thing, the boy waited around. 

The camp-fires were lighted, and while supper was cooking 
Jim smelled the frying bacon and thought of his own good meal 
at home. He hung on faithfully, in spite of hunger, until he was 
relieved by hearing the patter made by the barefooted youngsters 
as they approached the place where he waited. 

The boys did not get home until past midnight, and found 
that their father and Sam MacDonnel had just returned from a 
fruitless search after them. 

Tom told of their capture and subsequent escape, and did not 
fail to tell his father that he expected an attack upon the soldiers 
camping in the grove. He was questioned closely as to the 
number of the Federals. 

Dr. Archer very well knew that the attack would be made 
early next morning, and he determined to go to the camp and 
warn the commander of the danger which threatened him. 

Before leaving the house, the father exacted a promise from 
his sons that until the war was over they would not go out of 
the town, unless in the company of some older person. 

The three boys were given a good supper, and while they were 
eating the men left the house. Sam hurried home with the news 
of the night, and the doctor went over to the camp. 

Telling the sentinel, who was on duty at the entrance to the 
grove, that he wished to see the commander upon business of 
importance, he was at once escorted to the place where the colonel 
was sleeping. 

The latter was aroused, and the doctor quietly imparted his 
information. He also gave the officer some directions concerning 
the roads entering the town. 

Scarcely had Doctor Archer departed before the Confederate 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


143 


colonel began his preparations to foil the expected attack. By 
the time the men were aroused and ready, daylight was near. 

The soldiers were allowed time to eat their breakfast, after 
which they saddled the horses, leaving them in the grove ready in 
case of retreat. Placing a guard over the camp, the colonel led 
his forces up town. 

Day was just breaking when the Confederates took possession 
of all the buildings upon either side of the street, at a point where 
the Federals would make their entrance. 

Let us now return to the camp on the western road and see 
what took place there. Long before day the camp cooks were 
astir and breakfast was prepared. Eating with all haste, the men 
then mounted their horses and the march for the town was begun. 

These troops had no artillery, but neither had the Confeder- 
ates, a knowledge of which fact had been gained by the Federal 
commander from Tom Archer. The wagoners were ordered to 
move out to the road and remain until the fight was over. Not a 
man among these soldiers had a thought of anything save victory. 

The guard, who had charge of our young friends, decided to 
let the boys sleep until it was time to move the wagon. He 
kindly remarked to the teamster: 

“Them little Johnnies kin eat somethin’ while you are hitchin’ 
up them me-ules. I’ll let them rest a bit longer.” 

The troops were gone, and the teamsters were gearing up, 
when the guard stooped down and gave the blanket a jerk. He 
saw the pile of leaves Tom had pushed up, to look as much as 
possible like two boys, resting side by side, and he looked like a 
simpleton. 

He realized that his prisoners were gone, and in his distress and 
excitement, exclaimed wildly: 

“What in the devil will the kurnel say?” 

After the teamsters had indulged in a hearty guffaw at the 
guard’s predicament, one of the former offered some advice : 


144 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Ef them boys tuk word to the Rebels, an’ our men is walloped, 
you mus’ purtend that the Johnnies was let loose after the 
fight started. Ef our side wins, it won’t make no differunce 
no how to the kurnel whut time the boys left here.” 

The Federals were defeated, for they were taken completely 
by surprise. They charged into town, expecting to take the 
Confederates unawares, but a volley was poured into their ranks 
from both sides of the street. 

The Federal colonel knew that his foes had been in some way 
apprised of his coming. Fearing that he would be caught in a 
trap by being attacked in the rear, he ordered the retreat to be 
sounded. 

Before the Confederates could reload their pieces, the Federal 
commander led his men beyond danger. Strange to say, that not 
a man had been killed, though several were wounded, but these 
had been carried off by their comrades. 

The colonel on reaching the wagons did not speak of the boys, 
nor did he ever mention the subject again. In all probability he 
was so greatly mortified at his defeat that he never even thought 
of the prisoners or of what had become of them. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 

Although Doctor Archer had warned the Confederate colonel, 
and thereby saved his command from being destroyed, he was 
not aware of the fact that he was assisting the comrades of one 
of his friends. But such was the case, as we shall see as our 
story proceeds. 

One morning soon after the escape of Tom and Ned Archer 
from the camp of the Federals, they made a call upon their 
friend Sam MacDonnel. The object of their morning visit was 
to see a sandy shoat, of which Sam had recently become pos- 
sessed. 

The armies had made such a clean sweep of everything that 
could possibly be used for food, that the owner of a pig, even 
though it was but a small one, was regarded as a very fortunate 
individual indeed. 

Sam had made a short visit beyond town the morning before, 
and while on his w'ay home had stirred up the porker from a 
mud hole near the roadside. Our friend immediately deter- 
mined to capture the rather disreputable looking pig. 

Having reached this decision, he at once gave chase. But Sam 
found the capturing of the animal no very easy matter. How- 
ever, he kept up the pursuit until the shoat finally sought safety 
in the corner of a small cabin. 

There the pig assisted in its own downfall, or rather in its 
capture, by the downfall of Sam MacDonnel. 

That worthy fellow rushed to the corner where the shoat had 


146 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


taken refuge, and was sent sprawling when the pig attempted 
to pass between his legs. 

In his fall Sam came down upon the animal, and in spite of its 
squealing and kicking, he had it tied with his suspenders in short 
order. Having taken a little rest, he carefully placed the pig 
upon his shoulder and bore him triumphantly home. 

The lads praised the sandy shoat very highly, much to the 
gratification of their friend, although they thought it had a 
vicious look about the eyes. 

Tom and Ned had finished their inspection of Sam’s newly 
acquired property, and were then ready to return home. They 
were accompanied by the owner of the pig, who had some busi- 
ness up town. 

Our young friends had nothing to hurry them, and they 
strolled leisurely along listening to Sam MacDonnel, who was 
talking of the captured swine and what he expected to make it 
weigh by killing time. 

Sam had paused for a moment in his talk to reply to a remark 
made by Tom, when Ned, who was glancing over his shoulder, 
exclaim'ed : 

“Look back there, Tom. Yonder comes a big lot of Yankee 
cavalry. There must be a whole regiment or two.” 

Sure enough, when Sam and Tom turned ’round they saw a 
body of Federal troops, numbering at least two or three hun- 
dred. It was probably a party of raiders, scouting for the pur- 
pose of picking up useful information or capturing small bands 
of Confederates. 

The troops were advancing at a quick trot, and Sam and his 
companions had barely stepped aside when the head of the 
column was passing them. The boys had become so accustomed 
to seeing large armies that they now took but slight interest in 
watching small bodies of soldiers. 

Whatever the lads may have thought of the troops now macrh- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


147 

ing past them, these thoughts were entirely driven from their 
minds when the rear of the column appeared. 

There between two horsemen, his hat missing, his head bound 
with a bloody cloth, and looking pale and weary, rode their 
friend Dick Carroll, the young Georgian whom they met on the 
train as they travelled from Virginia. 

One quick glance he shot towards the brothers, then looked no 
more. Ned, always impulsive, was in the act of calling to the 
young fellow when Tom placed his hand upon his brother’s lips 
and said wamingly : 

“Hush, don’t say a word. Dick wants the soldiers to think 
we are strangers. We must appear not to notice him.” 

“Why do you say that?” asked Ned. 

“I could tell from the way he looked at us,” replied Tom. 
“Besides, I am sure I saw him shake his head for us to say 
nothing.” 

In order that our readers may understand the young Georgian's 
unfortunate position, we will go back a few days in our story. 

The body of Confederates recently camping in Doctor 
Archer’s grove, and saved by that gentleman’s timely warning, 
was Dick Carroll’s own regiment, or at least, what remained 
of it. The young fellow had been with the command until a few 
days before it entered D . 

The Confederate troops were probably three days march from 
the town, when the young soldier, who was a great favorite with 
every one of his comrades, stopped at a house to get some milk 
in his canteen. 

He was cautioned by his captain not to tarry too long, for at 
any moment he was liable to be surprised and captured by some 
raiding band of Federal troopers. 

There was a couple of pretty girls at the house, and Dick Car- 
roll was extremely fond of the ladies, especially good looking 


148 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


ones. He tarried longer than he supposed, and was putting his 
foot in his stirrups preparatory to mounting, when behold, there 
came charging up the road half a dozen Federal cavalry. That 
they were delighted at seeing him, their looks fully attested. 

The young Georgian came from fighting stock, for his ances- 
tors were Irish, and he had no idea of being taken without a 
skirmish. 

He drew his sword, and though the odds were heavy, he fought 
bravely. But there were too many for him. A cut from a 
heavy sabre settled the matter by knodking him from his horse. 

The soldiers passed on, and Tom and Ned hurried home to 
tell the folks there what they had seen. Sam, having lost his 
auditors, went up about the courthouse to learn what he could 
of the business of these troopers. This would give him an 
excuse on his return to stop at the doctor’s for dinner. 

Doctor Thomas came from the hospital at midday and heard 
from the lads the story of their acquaintance with the young 
soldier, now in the hands of the Federals. 

He had been requested by the major commanding the troops 
to dress young Carroll’s wound. Tom and Ned were assured 
that their friend would soon recover from the effects of the blow 
from the sabre. 

From the surgeon the family heard the story of Dick’s fight 
and capture. They also learned that these soldiers would be 
in town for a couple of days. 

Sam MacDonnel was pretty well acquainted with the dinner 
hour at Doctor Archer’s, and he dropped in before the meal was 
over. In his talk about the soldiers and their prisoner he stated 
that the latter was confined in the shoemaker’s shop just below 
the main street and about four doors from the doctor’s store- 
room. 

Tom Archer, upon hearing this last statement, gave his brother 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


149 


a sly wink, and then asking to be excused, he left the table. Ned 
understood the signal, and it was not long before he had joined 
Tom in the yard. 

The boys knew they would find Jim in the big kitchen eating 
his dinner with Aunt Lucy, for Liz was waiting on the table in 
the dining room. 

Thither they went, and the negro boy was requested to meet 
them down at the quarters when his meal was finished. Suspect- 
ing that something of importance was afloat, he did not linger 
long. 

No sooner had Jim joined the brothers behind the empty 
cabins, than Tom unfolded a plan which he had in view. This 
was nothing more or less than an attempt to assist Dick Carroll 
in escaping from his captors and getting clear of the town. 

The negro boy at first declared positively that he would have 
nothing to do with the matter. 

“ ’Sposin’ we am cotched,” said he. “Den de berry ole debbil 
’ll be to play. Dese men will hang ebery wun ob us. ’Sides dat, 
look at de trouble it bring Marse Tom an’ Mis Mary. Dey 
nebber fogib dis nigger ef anyting happen to yo all.” 

Finally, after a great deal of argument and much coaxing on 
the part of the lads, and Jim heard how young Carroll assisted 
them, he gave in. He did not consent until Tom had faithfully 
promised to give up the scheme if he saw too much risk ahead. 

Having once agreed that he would join in the adventure, Jim 
went into it heart and soul. He obtained permission from Mrs. 
Archer to go up to the camp in the afternoon. He had a two- 
fold purpose in view in making this visit. 

By fetching water and gathering up wood for the soldiers, 
he would not only earn some shin-plasters, but he stood a chance 
of getting a word with the young Georgian. The first step in 
Tom Archer’s plan was to communicate with his friend, and 
Jim was the only one upon whom he could rely for this purpose. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


150 

Though the negro boy spent some time about the camp, and 
though he was near Dick Carroll two or three times, he saw no 
chance of speaking to the young fellow. 

Jim returrted, richer by several notes of small denomination, 
but he had accomplished nothing for the advancement of their 
scheme. His report did not in the least discourage Tom, as he 
had expected it would do. 

At breakfast next morning Doctor Thomas informed the fam- 
ily that the soldiers expected to return towards Dalton the fol- 
lowing day, and would begin the march soon after daylight. 

Tom listened attentively and said to Ned and Jim at the first 
chance : 

“Whatever we do must be done tonight.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 


dick's friends to the rescue 

The morning Dick Carroll rode into the town of D a 

prisoner in the hands of the Federals, he was not surprised to 
see the lads, whose friendship he had won from his trip from 
Virginia. Many times while they were all travelling together 
Tom and Ned had spoken of this place as their future home. 

From the time of his capture the young fellow determined to 
take advantage of the first opportunity that afforded itself and 
try to escape. His horse, which was a splendid animal and a 
trained hunter, could, he felt confident, outstrip anything pos- 
sessed by his enemies. All he wanted was a little start. 

Dick knew that if he succeeded in getting away at this town 
his friends, if they made themselves known, were likely to suffer. 
For this reason he thought it better to pass the boys without 
any sign of recognition, knowing that his motive would be after- 
wards understood. 

The Federals at this time were not even exchanging prisoners, 
and it looked as if the young soldier was destined to be sent 
to some place of confinement in the North. 

Doctor Archer and his wife had heard with regret of Dick 
Carroll's capture, but it was beyond their power to assist him. 
Once the doctor thought of asking to see him, but concluded 
it was best not to do so. 

The first day passed after the arrival of the Federals in town, 
but no chance of escape presented itself to the prisoner. He had 
been confined, as Sam MacDonnel said, in the shoerriaker’s shop. 


152 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


This was true as far as the night was concerned, for during 
the day he was allowed to remain outside and walk about accom- 
panied by his guard. 

The building which w'as being used for the temporary prison 
of the youthful Confederate soldier was a small one. In the 
end, facing the camp of the Federate, was a door and one 
window. 

The latter was protected by a heavy solid shutter which the 
owner had securely nailed from the outside before leaving town. 
The door was in pretty fair condition, though it had frequently 
been used by the boys for a target. 

This shop had remained about as the shoemaker had left it. 
At the time Sherman occupied the town a sutler used it for his 
store, and saved it from the fate of the adjoining buildings. From 
that time it was undisturbed, if we except occasional stonings by 
the boys. 

Before ordering the prisoner to enter the shop upon the first 
evening, an officer had taken a look around the place. So far as 
he saw there was no possible way of escape. The shutter could 
not be opened without some heavy implement, and the door 
would have a guard outside. 

By the second day of his stay in town Dick Carroll gave up 
all hope of freedom for the present. His only chance would be 
to make a dash for liberty somewhere upon the march. This 
he had now fully determined upon, despite the risk. 

During the dinner hour that day Tom Archer was deeply 
engaged in thought and seemed to have lost his appetite. Once 
his father inquired if he was ill, and the lad replied “that he was 
worried about his friend Dick.” This answer satisfied the doc- 
tor and accounted for the boy’s looks. 

Tom had arranged to meet Jim behind the quarters after din- 
ner, and as soon as he could get away he hurried off to join his 
faithful ally. Ned soon followed his brother, and the negro 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


153 

boy was found at the place of meeting when the lads reached 
the cabins. 

Tom and Ned were old enough to know that they were 
planning a very dangerous undertaking, but they did not falter 
in their purpose. In their great anxiety to help their friend 
they seemed to forget that they would bring trouble upon their 
parents in event of being caught. 

About four o’clock in the afternoon Jim paid another visit 
to the camp, but learned nothing more than on the day preceding. 
The negro boy was under the impression that in order to insure 
the escape of the prisoner the latter must be communicated with 
before night. 

This was not true, yet it would have lessened considerably the 
risk to the boys and greatly increased the chances in favor of 
the captive. 

Jim spent two hours in the camp, and finding he could gain 
nothing by lingering about among the soldiers, he then went 
home to report the failure of his mission. 

Tom waited until the boy had finished his account of what 
he saw and did at the camp, when he said firmly: 

“We will not let this dishearten us, but will go ahead anyhow. 
I feel sure we will succeed if we keep up our courage.” 

Ned being present at this talk between the two boys, Tom 
cautioned him to be careful at supper not to betray himself by 
word or look. 

The lad knew that his mother was quick to notice anything 
unusual in the mlanner of those around her. Should she dis- 
cover what they were up to, he felt certain they would not be 
allowed to proceed. 

“Now, Jim,” advised Tom, as they were separating for supper, 
“be sure not to get into a sound sleep, for when I come for 
you I want you to be right ready. I will tell you before we 
start exactly what we have to do.” 


154 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


At eleven o’clock not a soul was stirring about the plantation. 
Tom Archer, who had been fighting sleep for more than an 
hour, tip-toed across to his brother’s room and gently awoke 
him. 

In five minutes more the lads were entering Jim’s quarters. 
They found him nodding before the fire-place, already dressed 
for the coming expedition. 

After getting the sleepy-headed negro fully aroused, Tom told 
both boys to stand in front of him and listen to what he had 
to say. The lad felt that the scheme he was about to attempt 
was a risky one, and he wished to make everything clear to his 
companions before starting. 

“You will go,” he said, speaking to his brother, “to the end 
of our store, this way, and next to the street. There keep a 
good lookout so that you may notice any person coming either 
way. Should some one pass, keep out of sight behind the 
building, or slip under the end of the store.” 

Tom had been scouting around in the neighborhood of the 
square that afternoon while Jim was visiting the soldiers. He had 
paid particular attention to the arrangement of the camp and 
also to the place where the horses were picketed, for much 
depended upon this. 

Satisfied that Ned fully understood the instructions given him, 
Tom next spoke to the negro boy: 

“Jim, you must get Dick’s horse. It is the last one on the 
line towards the road, and a little apart from the others. The 
saddle and bridle are on the piazza just in front of the horse. 
I was close up there when the soldiers were eating their suppers 
and could see everything plainly.” 

“Why don’t Dick stay about here until these men are gone?” 
asked Ned. “We could find some place to hide him.” 

“He will want to overtake his own men if he can, and it 
would not do for him to stop in the town,” replied Tom. “He 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


155 

would run a risk of being captured again. Besides, he would 
be afraid of bringing trouble upon us.” 

The boys had been practicing some signals lately, and now 
a different call was arranged for each, to be used in case of 
necessity. Jim, who was getting restless by this time, wanted 
to be off. 

“Ef we’s gwinter do eny thing dis night, we had better be 
doin’ it,” he said impatiently. “Dem soljers soun’ enuf ’sleep 
by dis time, ef dey anything lak dis nigger.” 

“Come on, then,” cried Tom. “I think we all understand now 
what we have to do.” 

The brothers stepped outside and were followed by Jim, who 
closed the door softly behind him. Like three ghostly shadows, 
the young adventurers stole through the orchard. 

They made their way quietly along, and Tom was thinking 
of what he would have to do to release his friend. The work 
of the greatest danger he had reserved for himself. 

Doctor Archer’s store fronted the courthouse square, and 
along the side of the building ran the Atlanta road past the 
camp. 

The entire side of the square was occupied by stores and shops, 
so that the boys, even by daylight, would have been hidden from 
view of the soldiers. 

The shop in which Dick Carroll was confined w f as halfway 
between the store and the hitching place of the horses. Like 
most buildings in that section, it had no foundation, but rested 
upon piles, the rear being much higher than the front. 

Before leaving his brother and the negro boy, Tom Archer, 
in a low whisper, repeated to them the part which he expected 
each to perform. Both boys promised faithfully to do as they 
were told. 

Jim, who was beginning to realize the peril of the work before 
them, whispered tremulously to Tom: 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


156 

“Young Marse, fo Gawd’s sake be berry keerful. Dis nigger 
gwine ter stan’ by yer tel yer gits frou, but ef we’s cotched 
dey’ll hang us higher dan ole Haman, de man what de Bible tells 
about.” 

Tom assured the black boy that he would take every precau- 
tion, and after a last word to his aides, he glided aw'ay in the 
darkness. Knowing that Tom would expect lively work, Ned 
and Jim proceeded to carry out the part assigned to each of them. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 


THE FEDERALS LOSE THEIR PRISONER 

While Tom and Ned, with the help of the Negro boy, are 
working to release their friend from captivity, we will return 
to the camp to learn what took place after Jim’s visit. Dick 
Carroll had heard the latter tell one of the soldiers that he was 
“Marse Tom Archer’s boy.” 

The doctor’s name recalled to the young soldier’s mind the 
fact that he had seen nothing of the lads from Virginia since 
passing them upon the road. There was no one but himself to 
blame for this, yet he felt that he had acted for the best. 

During the day he had gained enough from the talk of the sol- 
diers ’round him to know that on the morrow they would start 
upon their return towards Dalton. 

He hoped that his friends would be somewhere about to 
wave him a parting salute. He determined if he saw the boys 
to speak to them, for he then could do them no harm. 

Supper w*as over and the bugle sounded the hour for retiring. 
Just as he had the night before, Dick Carroll stepped into the 
shoemaker’s shop and closed the door behind him. No objec- 
tion was offered to the shutting of himself in, and Dick felt that 
he could sleep better when hidden from the eyes of his captors. 

Near the rear of the shop stood a short counter, and on top 
of this slept the young Georgian, having a blanket rolled up to 
rest his head upon. Not many moments passed after he had 
climbed to the counter before he was sleeping soundly. 

It w<as somewhat past midnight when the prisoner awoke from 


158 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


a pleasant dream of home and friends. He lay for some time 
thinking of those dear ones far away, whom he might never 
meet again. 

He knew that many of his formler comrades had died in prison, 
and this perhaps would be his fate. A sad end indeed for one 
so young. 

Wishing to gain a more comfortable position, he was about 
to turn from one side to the other when he felt sure that he 
heard a noise within the shop. Raising himself upon his elbows, 
he waited for a repetition of the sound. 

He had listened for some moments, and hearing nothing, he 
was preparing to lie down. In doing so he made a slight noise. 
Immediately some one spoke his name in a very low whisper. 

“Who are you?” inquired the young man, who was amazed 
beyond measure to find there was actually some one in the room. 
“Who are you?” he repeated, and listened attentively. 

“Dick, this is Tom Archer,” came back the reply, and before 
the prisoner had recovered from the surprise caused by this 
answer the lad was at the side of his friend. 

“How in the mischief did you get in here?” asked Dick Car- 
roll, feeling for Tom’s hand and giving it a hearty shake in the 
dark. 

“I crawled in under the shop,” returned Tom. 

“Then I suppose you slipped through a crack,” said the young 
soldier in that tone of raillery which the boy remembered so 
well. Even in face of great danger the brave fellow jested. 

Tom Archer would like to have kept Dick guessing for a 
while, but he knew there was no time to lose. Quickly he 
explained that he had gained entrance to the shop through a 
trap door in the floor, the existence of which he had known 
for some time. 

Soon after coming to the town Tom had visited the shoe- 
maker’s shop to have repairing done. On that occasion he had 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


159 

seen the owner of the place sweeping scraps of leather through 
this door. 

The moment he heard that his friend was confined in the 
building, he decided to use the trap as an expedient for Dick’s 
escape, and was now ready to lead the way to liberty. 

It took but an instant for the lad to make his explanation, and 
then, followed by the young soldier, he passed through the trap 
door. 

For fear of making a noise they did not lower the trap, and 
in a few seconds more they were beyond the building. Dick 
Carroll drew 1 in a long breath of relief when he found himself 
outside his prison. 

In the time Tom required to reach his friend in the shop and 
show him the way out, Jim had not been idle. The Federals 
had placed no special guard over the horses, and the negro boy 
secured the animal belonging to Dick Carroll with very little 
trouble. 

Ned was called from his post at the corner of the store, and 
reported all quiet in that direction. The young Georgian knew 
that he was in danger of recapture at any moment, but he took 
time to thank the boys heartily and send a message to the doctor 
and his wife. 

Having mounted his horse, the young fellow said quietly: 

“Now, boys, if I am caught it will not be healthy for you to 
be found around here. I am going to count one hundred slowly, 
and before I have finished you must be home.” 

Tom Archer knew that this was good advice, and he pro- 
ceeded to act upon it. Before doing so he earnestly begged 
Dick to be careful and not run too much risk. 

Silently Dick Carroll sat upon his horse, giving his young 
friends and their companion time to be well upon their way 
home. Proceeding at a slow gait, he started upon the last but 
most perilous step to liberty. 


i6o 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


In safety he crossed the road, which led down past his late 
prison. By the flickering light of a dying camp-fire he saw’ the 
sleepy sentinel leaning against the door of the shop from which 
he had just escaped. 

Keeping well to the left of the road, he passed the camp 
without being discovered. He was just thanking his lucky star 
that the worst was over, when out from the darkness upon his 
right rang out a hoarse challenge : 

“Halt! who. goes there?” 

“I am looking for Major C , can you tell me where to 

find him?” 

To such a short and sudden notice Dick gave the first reply 
he could think of upon the moment. 

“Whur air you from, an’ what is yo bizness with the majer 
at this time of night?” sharply demanded the sentinel as he 
stepped in front of the horseman. 

“I have an important dispatch for the major, and have orders 
to deliver it immediately,” returned Dick. 

In his efforts to see the rider the guard came close up to the 
horse, at the same time resting the butt of his gun upon the 
ground. 

“Now is my chance,” thought Dick. He drew his rein firmly 
and gave his horse a quick stroke in the flank with his spur. 

Instantly the spirited steed sprang forward, stung to action 
by the keen rowel. Shooting his foot straight out, the young 
Georgian struck the soldier a stunning blow in the chest, knock- 
ing him! down. As the man fell he pulled the trigger of his 
gun, which went off with a report that roused the camp. 

With a cry of exultation, Dick Carroll gave rein to his steed 
and the noble animal, catching the spirit of his master, was off 
like a racer. 

By the time the sentinel recovered his breath and had risen 
to his feet, he heard the hoof beats of Dick’s horse growing 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


161 


fainter and fainter in the distance. He knew the rider could 
never be overtaken, and he decided to tell a story to suit himself 
when questioned by his captain. 

Dick Garroll’s horse was in good condition, and the young 
fellow pushed rapidly on in pursuit of his command. 

One evening soon after his escape, Dick, to the surprise and 
delight of his comrades, rode into camp. His story was soon 
told, and his friends kept up their rejoicing over his return ’til 
far in the night. 

Very little time elapsed after the prisoner’s escape before an 
officer reached the picket post. 

“What in the devil is the matter here?” he sternly demanded 
of the sentinel. 

“While I was keepin’ my post,” replied the soldier, “a man 
rode up and sez, sez he, I wan ter see the majer. I told him he 
would have to cum with me to the carpel of the guard. Jes as 
I was about to take him he put spuz to his hoss an’ galluped 
away. I fired at him, an’ missed, fur he kept goin’ straight 
ahead.” 

The officer found nothing in this story for which to censure 
the sentinel, and he returned to make his report to the com- 
mander. The guard chuckled to himself when left alone. 

Major C heard the report of the officer without taking 

the trouble of leaving his bed of blankets upon which he was 
comfortably reclining. 

In fact, he concerned himself very little about the affair, 
saying to the captain who had reported the matter: 

“Very likely some bushwhacker has been prowling around 
the camp watching a chance to steal a horse. There are lots 
of those gentry travelling about the country.” 

With these words he dismissed the officer, and turned over 
to finish his sleep which had been disturbed by the report of 
the gun. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


162 

Strange to relate, no one seemed to think of the prisoner, who 
during all the excitement was supposed to be safely lodged in 
the shoemaker’s shop. In fact, these soldiers had been march- 
ing hard recently and were more concerned about sleep than 
they were about Dick Carroll. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE ESCAPE 

When the horse of the young Confederate was reported to be 
missing the morning following the escape, the commander of 
the Federals observed: 

“It is just as I said last night. Some dare-devil of a bush- 
whacker was scouting ’round the camp watching an opportunity 
to steal a horse, and he succeeded.” 

Some half hour later a second officer hurried to the major 
and reported that not only was the prisoner’s horse missing, but 
the prisoner himself was not to be found, though diligent search 
had been made for him. 

Then the Federal commander, deeply mortified that he had 
twice given an opinion so much at variance with the truth, 
swore roundly at the officers. 

“How in the name of thunder did the fellow get out of that 
place?” he demanded fiercely. “I thought he could not possibly 
escape from the building.” 

“So it was supposed,” responded the officer calmly. “But it 
appears that there was a small trap door in the floor, and 
through this escape was easy when the prisoner once found it.” 

“It is devilish singular that you did not examine the place more 
closely,” said the major harshly. 

The captain, for such was the rank of the officer who had 
been placed in charge of Dick Carroll, knew it was better to 
make no reply. He politely saluted his superior and walked 
away. 


164 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“How lucky fur me that I tole the capen that yarn,” said the 
sentinel of the night before who was then passing. 

News of the escape of the young Georgian was brought to 
Doctor Archer’s family by Sam MacDonnel, who had been up 
to the camp that morning. 

Tom and Ned, who were present when Sam related his story, 
found it difficult to keep from betraying the part they had taJken 
in the affair. 

“Jes ez we’uns arrove at the camp,” said Sam, “we’uns heerd 
that a hoss wus missin’. That wus hardly over, when up runs 
anuther feller, an’ sez him, ‘Capting, the pris’ner has got away 
thru a trap doe.’ The capting went toe report toe a bigger 
offiser, an’ we’uns hung aroun’ thinkin’ toe heer sumthin’ mo.” 

“Did you hear anything else, Sam ?” inquired the doctor. 

“Not a nuther thing,” replied MacDonnel. “All that they’uns 
knowed wuz that the hoss wuz gone an’ so wuz the pris’ner. 
How he cum toe find the trap doe, whut time he lef ’, noboddy 
knowes nuthin’ ’bout hit.” 

After Sam had departed for home to get his breakfast and 
tell the news to Betty, Doctor Archer, whose mind still dwelt 
upon the occurrences of the morning, remarked thoughtfully: 

“It seems singular that young Carroll should find that place 
in the floor. How he knew just exactly where to lay his hands 
on his horse, saddle and bridle, is also something of a mystery. 
It looks almost as if he had been assisted by some one acquainted 
with the building and the location of things around it.” 

All the time the doctor was speaking, Mrs. Archer was closely 
scanning the faces of the two lads. Both were very attentive 
to what their father was saying, and she had little trouble in 
reading their countenances. 

Ned’s face particularly told a story very easy for the mother 
to read, and when her husband finished speaking Mrs. Archer 
observed with a smile: 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


165 

“I think we have here a couple of young gentlemen who 
could tell something about this affair.” 

The doctor stared at his wife a moment as if completely mysti- 
fied. He could make nothing out of it at all. 

“You don’t mean to say,” he exclaimed with puzzled air, 
“that Tom and Ned had anything to do with the escape of 
Didk Carroll?” 

“That is exactly what I do say,” replied Mrs. Archer. Then 
addressing the boys, she said playfully: “Now, young knights, 
let us hear how you rescued your friend.” 

Seeing no signs of displeasure in his father’s countenance, 
Tom related the part each boy had performed in assisting the 
young soldier to make his escape. 

The parents gave close attention to the story of the lad, and 
the mother shuddered when she thought how differently their 
undertaking might have terminated. 

“I am glad that you were so ready to help your friend,” said 
the father kindly, “and feel proud that you had courage to carry 
the matter through. You must not breathe a word of this to 
any one, for unless I am mistaken, these soldiers are only the 
advance guard of a larger force soon to come.” 

Doctor Archer spoke truly, as We shall see later. He well 
knew that in the town were persons who to curry favor with 
the Federals would be glad to have something to report. His 
family were certain to suffer if it became known that his boys 
had assisted in the escape of a prisoner. 

The doctor finished his warning to Tom and Ned, and then 
sent out to the big kitchen for Jim. Nothing was said to the 
boy about what was wanted, and as he crossed the yard he 
muttered dolefully : 

“Dis nigger gwinter git de debbil dis time, sho nuff. I jes bet 
Marse Tom git ebbery ting out o’ de boys befo’ brekus ’bout 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


1 66 

helpin’ Marse Dick las’ night. I ain’t gwinter fess ’ceptin’ I 
can’t git out ob it, an’ den Ise gwinter say jes as little as I kin.” 

To the wonderment of Jim, his master, instead of scolding, 
spoke kindly to him. Doctor Archer was convinced that loyalty 
to the family and fear of danger to himself would keep the 
negro boy quiet, and the latter returned to the kitchen wearing 
a board grin upon his shining face. 

Just at this time the lads from Virginia were made acquainted 
with a kind of sport hitherto unknown to them. This new amuse- 
ment came as a welcome relief, at a season when the young folks 
of D had little or no employment. 

In Georgia and States lying in the same latitude grows a small 
tree properly called the China berry. By the boys with whom 
they played, as well as many older persons, Tom and Ned heard 
it spoken of as the “chaney berry.” 

Years ago the boys of this section discovered that this berry 
made excellent ammunition for popguns. The youngsters of 
the town now turned this knowledge to their own account. 

One afternoon about twenty lads, inclusive of our young 
friends the Archers, met at the courthouse to organize for 
“chaney berry” fights. A captain and nine Warriors constituted 
the forces of each army. 

Walter Breese being commander of one side and Tom Archer 
of the other, we miay be sure that the engagements were to be of 
a friendly character. The boys promised themselves much fun 
from these battles, and it Was agreed to meet on the morrow for 
the opening of hostilities. 

A fight of this description was not so childish an affair as 
it would at first appear. The barrel of the gun consisted of 
a heavy joint of cane, while the ramrod was made from a 
strong piece of hickory. 

Pushing a berry of the proper size into the gun, a little air 



,ol 

. to 



A “Chaney Berry” Starts a Lively Discussion. 



THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


167 


is then blown in behind it, and this lends extra force to the dis- 
charge. When the ramrod, made blunt at the end, is thrust in, 
out flies the berry with a crack like a small pistol and a force 
that is wonderful. 

There was- just risk enough connected with the “chaney 
berry” fights to render the sport delightful to the boys. The 

ad usually left the gun with a force sufficient to break the skin 
injure an eye. This was true only when the person struck 
by the berry was pretty close to the weapon. 

Each afternoon while the berries lasted an engagement took 
place. No sport upon the Sabbath was allowed by the parents 
of the lads belonging to this crowd. There being no service at 
the churches and no Sunday schools, the day appeared rather 
long and tedious to the boys. 

One lad invented a double-barreled gun by binding two joints 
of cane together. This new style of weapon became so popular 
tha soon all the boys were wearing a pair of these so-called 
piscols in their belts. 

Several of the lads had cartridge boxes in which to carry their 
ammunition, but most of them carried the berries in their 
pockets. The big white tavern was a favorite place for these 
encounters, though often the opposing forces mlet at Lairs and 
other large buildings about town. 

From room to room the battles raged, and the popping of the 
guns was loud and frequent. From the basement to the attic 
one side drove the other. Then while the victorious warriors 
were loading their guns the others charged down upon them 
and drove them below. 

Sometimes a couple of boys would steal out to the piazza, 
and sliding down a post to the next story, would attack the 
enemy in the rear. It was great sport, and sorry indeed were 
the youngsters when the China berries were gone and their arms 
were laid aside. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 


A CALL FROM RAIDERS 

The visit paid by the two rogues to the home of Doctor 
Archer a few days prior to the late adventures of Tom and 
Ned was the cause of a rather amusing incident a couple of 
weeks later. 

One morning about ten o’clock a large body of Federal cavalry, 
several regiments in fact, entered the town. They bivouaced 
upon and around the courthouse square. With them were 
several pieces of light artillery. It appeared that they had only 
stopped long enough to feed their horses and give them a 
short rest. 

The commander issued some orders to one of his subordinates, 
and then strolled away in the direction of their intended march. 
Reaching Doctor Archer’s residence, he paused for a moment 
to look about him. 

Seeing a negro boy drawing some water from the well, it 
occurred to the officer that he was very thirsty. He saw the 
dripping bucket as it rose full to the brim, and decided to have a 
drink. 

He entered the yard, and going ’round to the well asked the 
boy for some water. After quenching his thirst from the gourd 
which Jim handed him, the officer declared that he had never 
tasted anything so refreshing as that draught of water. 

Jim was made the proud possessor of a greenback note of 
no small denomination. He looked upon himself as a person 
of some wealth, and thought of the many things he could buy. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


169 


The trooper was about to leave the yard when Mrs. Archer 
came out from the house on her way to the big kitchen. She 
was very politely accosted by the soldier, who congratulated 
her upon having a well of such excellent water. 

The commander also made some remarks concerning the war, 
and asked if the family had been much annoyed by soldiers of 
either army. 

In replying to this question of the officer, the lady said: 

“We have been very fortunate so far not to be greatly an- 
noyed.” Then as she thought of the visit of the bummers, she 
resumed : “Two men came here a few days since pretending 
to have orders from General Kilpatrick to search my house for 
tobacco. They behaved very rudely indeed.” 

The soldier’s face grew very red as he listened to what Mrs. 
Archer was saying, and he could scarcely wait tor her last 
word. 

“Madam, I am General Kilpatrick,” he cried in an angry tone. 
“I know nothing whatever about the matter. The very next 
time any of these d — n thieves come prowling around here, 
scald them with hot water.” 

“I will endeavor to take your advice, General,” returned the 
lady very pleasantly. 

Without stopping to utter another word, the irate trooper 
made a slight bow and strode haughtily from the yard. 

He mounted his horse with which an orderly had just arrived, 
and driving the spurs into the splendid animal, dashed away. 
His cavalry were not far behind, for the officer who was in 
charge of them had received his orders when the commander 
left his m'en at the square. 

During the foregoing colloquy between Mrs. Archer and the 
general, Jim stood by with eyes rolling in his head and a broad 
grin on his face. 

Fearing that the enraged officer would demand the return of 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


170 

the money, the negro boy at the first angry outburst turned 
aside and slipped the precious note out of sight in the bosom 
of his shirt. 

Watching the last of the general’s men as they rode past the 
house, Jim said, as a sigh of relief escaped him : 

“Lawdy massy, Mis Mary, de general so monstous mad I 
fred he gwinter to kill ebbry one ob us.” 

Mrs. Archer replied, as she watched the blue-coated column 
disappearing in the distance: 

“The general was not near so angry as he seemed. He 
had no idea of hurting us, but he will make short work of those 
bummers if they fall into his hands.” 

Shortly after twelve o’clock Doctor Archer, accompanied by 
the surgeon, came to dinner. The gentlemen were highly enter- 
tained by an account of the visit of the morning. 

Doctor Thomas was acquainted with some of Kilpatrick’s 
officers, and had received some very fine cigars from one of 
them. From the same party the surgeon had heard certain 
reports concerning the future movements of the army, but was 
unable to vouch for the truth of them. 

Sitting on the piazza after dinner, Doctor Archer and his 
guest enjoyed the flavor of some of the cigars, which doubtless 
had been captured upon this very raid. 

Speaking of the information received that morning, the sur- 
geon said : 

“From what I have learned today it will not surprise me if I 
am moved from here before very long. My services, I think, 
will be needed elsewhere. 

“I will regret to see you go,” replied Doctor Archer, “for 
our relations have been very pleasant since you have been 
with us.” 

It was a few days after this conversation, and the doctor’s 
family were getting ready to retire for the night. Liz had just 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


171 

undressed Mary and tucked the little girl snugly in her trundle 
bed. 

Tom and Ned had retired to their rooms, but if the truth 
must be told, they were not sleeping. Just at that time they were 
romping about the centre of the dining room, engaged in the 
fiercest kind of a pillow battle. 

The doctor himself was upon the point of removing his coat, 
when he thought he heard a loud halloo in front of the house. 
Pausing for a moment to listen, he was sure that the call was 
repeated. 

The partly removed garment was replaced and the doctor 
went out upon the piazza. Tom and Ned heard their father 
enter the hall. Thinking he might be after them, the lads sus- 
pended hostilities and dived into bed. 

Once outside, Doctor Archer heard the voices of several 
men, and also the rattle of arms and trampling of horses. Some 
of the raiders were speaking in loud and excited tones as if dis- 
puting among themselves. 

What these men really wanted never entered the doctor’s 
mind. He had no thought of danger, and was just preparing 
to ask their business when one of them inquired : 

“Is this where Doctor Archer lives?” 

“This is the place,” returned the doctor. 

After this reply there was some further discussion among 
the troopers in the road, and before our friend could decide 
what all this talk could mean, a voice cried: 

“Doctor, we have come to burn your house. My men are in 
a big hurry, and we can give you only twenty minutes to get 
your family out.” 

The tone in which these words were spoken convinced Doc- 
tor Archer that there was no hope of saving his home. He 
thought of the surgeon at the hospital, but the deed would be 


172 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


done before Doctor Thomas could be summoned. It was plain 
that his home was doomed. 

The doctor knew that he could rely upon his wife’s courage to 
sustain even this dreadful blow and to give him all the assist- 
ance that was possible in this hour of trial. 

“Mary, I want you to get the children dressed,” he calmly 
said on entering the sitting room. “Those men out there have 
come to burn our home. I will call the servants and get the 
gold found by Ned. We will go down to Colonel Hall’s tonight 
and remain until other arrangements can be made. We have 
only a little time in which to get ready.” 

Mrs. Archer was a true daughter of the South. She did not 
wring her hands and commence weeping. For the sake of her 
husband and children she must be calm and carry out the work 
assigned to her. 

The doctor proceeded to the big kitchen, and calling Aunt 
Lucy sent her to the house. Then going to the overseer’s quar- 
ters he roused Jim. Next he returned to the house to look after 
the gold and some valuable papers. 

Up to this time scarcely ten minutes had passed. The family 
were all assembled, and the gold and papers were put away 
where the fire could not injure them. 

“We still have a few moments to spare,” the doctor said 
thoughtfully to his wife. “An idea occurs to me, and I think I 
will try it.” 

Going out into the yard, he asked to be allowed to speak for 
a moment to the officer in charge of the soldiers. His request 
was granted, and the trooper dismounted and came across the 
yard, joining the doctor near the piazza. 

Our friend had purposely refrained from going to meet the 
raider. He wished to keep a position where the light from the 
window would plainly reveal his actions. Suddenly, while the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


173 

trooper stood facing him, the doctor raised his hand, making 
a sign as he did so. 

For an instant the soldier remained silent and motionless 
before the man whose home he had come to destroy. He 
scarcely knew what to say. Rousing himself by a great effort, he 
cried almost tearfully: 

“Doctor, we have no orders to burn your home. My men 
stopped at a house just as we entered the town. There they were 
given liquor and you were reported as a rank Rebel. Nothing 
but a burning would satisfy the men after they were filled with 
whiskey. What can I do now to save you from this trouble?” 

Hurriedly though the trooper spoke, the doctor’s thoughts 
flew faster. His mind reverted to an incident which he had 
witnessed some days before, and he began to see a way out of 
his trouble. He asked the soldier the reason for being in such 
haste. 

“We have been pursued today by a body of Confederate 
troops. My men are terribly afraid of being captured,” was 
the answer returned. 

“Try and keep your soldiers occupied for ten minutes,” said the 
doctor. “I have a plan in mind which I think may work all 
right.” 

The trooper went back to his men* while Doctor Archer hur- 
ried into the house. Calling the negro boy aside, he asked: 

“Jim, do you think you can imitate the sound of a bugle, 
as you did for the amusement of the boys a few days ago ?” 

“Yes sah, yes, Marse Tom. I kin imytate mos’ enyting wid 
my mouf,” the boy replied proudly. 

“Very good,” said the doctor. “I want you to go> at once 
through the orchard and come out on the road above the garden. 
When you reach the road, go up as far as my store. Stop there 
and give a bugle call, such as you have heard when soldiers were 
coming into town. After a moment come about half way home 


174 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


and sound another call. You will then have done all that is 
possible, and can return the way you went. Now don’t forget.” 

“All right, Marse Tom; Jim do jes dezactly whut yo tell him,” 
the negro boy promised confidently as he moved quickly away. 

Giving Jim ample time to reach the road, the doctor then re- 
turned to the yard. Scarcely had he stepped from the piazza 
when a sound as of a bugle was heard. It was time, for the 
raiders were dismounting to begin work. The officer could 
restrain them no longer. He had done all that lay within his 
power. 

The men heard the sound that was so full of menace to them, 
and one of the marauding party cried hoarsely : 

“Great Lord! here comes them fellers after us again.” 

A second time the sound fell upon their ears, and without 
waiting for the officer they mounted and fled. But the leader 
was up and ready, and as he was about to ride away the doctor 
cried thankfully: 

“Brother, you have saved my home. Goodbye, and may God 
bless you.” 

Much praise was bestowed upon Jim for the part which he 
took in the affair. The negro boy felt as proud as if he had 
defeated an entire army. 

Doctor Archer afterwards explained why the officer had made 
every effort to delay his men, and Tom, who was much inter- 
ested in the matter, declared: 

“If I live to be a man I am going to be a Mason.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 


A SHORT EXPEDITION 

In November, 1864, General Sherman found that Hood was 
determined to undertake the invasion of Tennessee. Dividing 
his forces and leaving Thomas to pursue the Confederates, he 
commenced his famous “March to the Sea.” 

On it's return to Atlanta one division of the Federal troops 

under Blair marched by way of D . Here the army was 

halted for a day or two to give the men a rest. The tent for the 
headquarters of the general commanding was pitched in Doctor 
Archer’s yard, and sentinels were stationed at several points 
about the premises. 

The presence of the general and the guards about the place 
gave the doctor’s family a feeling of security. And yet there 
was one thing that caused the doctor some uneasiness, and 
this was the tobacco which was in the house. 

Fortunately his mind was set at rest upon this subject the 
first timte Doctor Thomas came from the hospital after the 
troops arrived. The surgeon knew that his friends expected 
trouble on account of having the tobacco, and he had formed 
a plan to relieve them of it. 

“The soldiers now in town are sadly in want of the weed,” 
he remarked to Doctor Archer one morning at breakfast. 
“Should you desire me to do so I can arrange, I am sure, with 
General Blair for the sale of it to his men.” 

“It certainly would be a great relief to be rid of it, but I 
wanted if possible to give it to our own men. In fact, I have 
already disposed of two boxes in that way.” 


176 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“You are not likely to have that opportunity/’ rejoined the 
surgeon, “and if the war ends in favor of the North, the money 
which you realize from the sale of the article will be of immense 
service to you. Besides that,” continued Doctor Thomas, “some 
thieving band may make it an excuse for plundering and burn- 
ing your house, and worse still, of maltreating your family.” 

Doctor Archer knew that this was all correct, for he thought 
of the two bummers and the recent visit of the raiders who were 
going to burn his house. The surgeon’s last words decided him, 
and he gave his consent to the proposed arrangement. 

It took Doctor Thomas but a little while to fix matters with 
General Blair, and the details of the sale of the tobacco was 
soon settled. 

Not only was the doctor greatly relieved by its removal from 
the house, but the mloney received was of assistance a few months 
later. 

The division moved on to Atlanta, and Doctor Thomas went 
with it. There were only three or four men left in the hos- 
pital, and these Doctor Archer promised to look after until they 
were ready to leave. With sincere regret the doctor’s family 
said “goodbye” to the Federal surgeon. 

The last evening of his stay in D , Doctor Thorrias pre- 

sented his host with a case of fine surgical instruments as a 
token of his esteem and in appreciation of the services rendered 
in the hospital. 

General Blair’s division passed on, and after that no very large 
body of troops came through this section of the State. Occa- 
sionally a small body of raiders would come along, but no fight- 
ing occurred. 

About this time the lack of food was becoming a very serious 
matter, for the country had been swept bare of almost every- 
thing in the shape of eatables. 

Many families from the country came into town, and the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


177 


citizens gave them a share of whatever they possessed. Doctor 
Archer had several of these needy folks with him at different 
times, and he gave assistance as long as his provisions held out. 

The doctor’s horse had been stolen by bummers, and his cow 
had taken a French leave one morning. She was nearly dry, it 
is true, but converted into beef she would have been a wonder- 
ful help to the family. 

Now and then Jim dressed a kid, and for some time no other 
meat was eaten, if we except a tough guinea hen or two. What 
chickens Mrs. Archer had were used for the wounded. 

Trips to the mill were made whenever there was a little corn 
to grind. Tom and Ned, accompanied by Jim, would set off 
with a small poke of grain upon their shoulders. Sometimes 
they had Sam MacDonnel for a companion, and the trip would 
be turned into a frolic. 

Our young friends were fortunate just now in having a large 
number of goats. These little animals, besides supplying the 
family with an abundance of excellent meat, were very useful 
in other ways and would have been sadly missed. 

Sam MacDonnel had made two wagons for the boys, who with 
their goat teams managed to do considerable work. Sweet pota- 
toes, peaches, chips and wood were loaded into the small vehicles 
and drawn to the house by the goats. 

By very hard work a patch of sugar cane had been cultivated, 
and as it was at the back part of the plantation it had not been 
disturbed. In the fall it was cut by Sam MacDonnel and the 
negro boy Jim. 

Tom and Ned with their little wagons hauled it to the cane 
mill back of the negro quarters. An ancient and battered mule, 
hired for the occasion, did the grinding. 

One day the sorghum making being pretty nearly done, Sam, 
who was assisting with the boiling, said to the doctor : 


i 7 8 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“If nu thin’ happens, we’uns air goin’ up about Acworth toe 
look fur sum hosses the day after tomorrer.” 

“Who has lost any horses lately?’’ inquired Doctor Archer. 
“I had no idea there were any about here to lose.” 

“The hosses air not egzactly lost,” replied Sami. “Leastways, 
not by eny wun but soljers. They’uns turns them loose when 
not fit fur no mo work.” 

“Would they be worth anything after you got them?” asked 
the doctor, who had some doubts concerning Sam’s enterprise. 

“With a little kear and feedin’ they make very good hosses, 
specially the mewls.” 

Sam had no idea he had said anything to make the boys 
laugh, nevertheless they were laughing very heartily at his last 
remark. 

“Them youngsters air putty lively toe day,” remarked Sam 
innocently. “Do you think you’ens kin spar’ them toe go with 
we’uns toe look fur sum hosses ?” 

The doctor considered the matter seriously a moment before 
replying. 

“I don’t suppose there is any danger in that direction, but if 
they go, you must be very careful not to let them get into 
any trouble.” 

Sam promised that he would take good care of the lads and 
bring them safely home. The appointed day came and they 
started upon their trip. 

For the first ten miles, which wias about half the distance, the 
boys did very well, but grew pretty tired later in the after- 
noon. At midday they stopped at a spring by the road side and 
ate the lunch put up by Aunt Lucy, and never did the boys eat 
with greater enjoyment. 

Taking a rest for an hour, they resumed their journey and 
reached their destination in time “to get their names in the pot,” 
as Sam expressed it. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


179 


They spent the night with some of Sam’s acquaintances, and 
as they were tired out, they went to rest not long after supper. 
Sam and Tom shared a bed together, while Ned slept upon a 
narrow couch in the sitting room. 

Some time after midnight the womout youngster tumbled 
from his resting place, but was not at all disturbed by the fall. 
When the man of the house came down next morning Ned was 
sound asleep on the floor. 

Sam made known the purpose of his visit after he had fin- 
ished breakfast, but was disappointed to learn that there were 
no stray horses in the neighborhood. There had been some, 
but all had been taken up. On hearing this, the travellers deter- 
mined to set off for home at once, in order that their journey’s 
end might be reached before dark. 

The good woman of the house gave them a “snack” to eat by 
the way, and they stopped at their resting place of the day 
before. 

Having eaten their lunch, they lay down for a short doze. 
Sam had put his hat over his face, and in two minutes he was 
snoring as comfortably as if resting in one of Betty’s soft 
feather beds. 

In about half an hour Ned awoke and started to the spring 
for a drink. He was surprised to see two rough looking men 
riding towards him, and quietly called Sam and his brother. 

The two were very quickly aroused, and Tom cried upon 
seeing the mien : 

“Sam, there is father’s horse that was stolen.” 

“Yes,” replied Sam, “an’ the tother hoss that ugly varmint 
is ridin’ air Colonel Hall’s big mewl.” 

The lads never once thought of laughing at Sam’s comical 
remark about the mule, for the rapid approach of the bummers 
drove all fun from their minds. 

The men reached the spring, and without taking the slightest 


i8o 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


notice of our friends, dismounted and tied the animals to a 
couple of saplings that stood near by. They at once commenced 
eating and drinking as if they had fasted for days. 

These men had a couple of canteens of corn whiskey apiece, 
and though Sam longed for a drink, he remembered his promise 
to the doctor. He could not drink and take care of the young- 
sters at the same time. 

He concluded that nothing was to be gained by staying longer 
in the neighborhood, and asked the boys to follow him. As 
they walked away, Sam told his companions that he had a plan 
to fix the bummers. 

Had the>se horse thieves seen any advantage in preventing 
Sam MacDonnel and the boys from leaving, they would have 
called them to halt upon the first move. The appearance of the 
travellers indicated nothing of value upon their persons, and they 
were allowed to depart unmolested. 


CHAPTER THIRTY 


HOW sam's plan worked 

MacDonnel and his young friends reached a point in the road 
where they were hidden from the sight of the horse thieves. 
Here a halt wais called and Sam unfolded his wonderful plan. 

“That hoss belongs to you’ens pap,” he sagely remarked, 
“and the mewl to Colonel Hall. Them dirty rascals will drink 
til they’uns air dead drunk, and then we’uns air goin’ toe sneak 
up and git both animals, an’ scoot fur home.” 

No sooner had our friend unfolded his plan than Tom deter- 
mined to have a hand in the work. Upon the boy stating his 
intention, Sam threatened to give up the whole matter. He was 
finally convinced by the lad that two of them could manage 
better than one. 

Nothing could be accomplished until the men were stupefied 
with drink, and the travellers sought a comfortable spot and 
awaited developments. 

Now and then scraps of talk and snatches of lewd and pro- 
fane songs fell upon the ears of Sam and his companions. 

About an hour had passed when the sound of trampling horses 
was heard by the watchers. Sam and Tom rose from where 
they were sitting to listen for any movement of the bummers. 

“I am afraid after all they are going aw r ay,” said Tom. Then 
as the noise continued he decided to see what was going on. 
Telling Sam and Ned he would be back in a minute, the lad 
slipped awlay. 

Tom was very soon close enough to see what the men were 


182 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


doing, and he was rejoiced to find that they were only moving 
back a little distance from the road. 

Having come this far, he determined to go still further and 
find out exactly where the men were going to make their camp. 

The bummers went back into the woods a hundred yards or 
so and then dismounted and removed their saddles. Their 
animals were tied to a couple of saplings, and Tom was perfectly 
satisfied that these fellows were going to pass the night in the 
woods. 

The boy did not leave the neighborhood at once, but kept 
watch a while longer. Both rogues made themselves com- 
fortable lounging places by piling up leaves. Then they began 
to enjoy their pipes and com whiskey as they reclined. 

Presently the men grew sleepy, and first one and then the 
other would drop his head and doze for a while. 

“It won’t be long,” thought Tom, “until they are fast asleep. 
I had better slip back and see what Sam thinks of making a 
move right away.” 

The lad took no notice of the flight of the moments, so 
engaged he had been with watching. It was well that he re- 
turned when he did, for his friends were getting very much con- 
cerned about him. Once they had spoken of going to see what 
had become of him. 

Sam heard Tom’s report and concluded that the time had 
come for a move upon the enemy. A plan of action was set- 
tled upon, and a couple of stout oaken cudgels were cut. These 
were to be used both for defence and attack, as necessity should 
demand. 

.Ned was to go up the road a short distance towards home, and 
there wait until his friends came back. This much settled, the 
remainder of the affair would be carried out according to the 
course of events. 

Sam and Tom gave Ned plenty of time to reach the place 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


183 


designated for him to wait. They then moved in the direction 
of the spring. It was decided that Sam should wait near the 
latter place, while Tom took another look to see what the 
bummers were doing. 

Step by step, with no sound save the occasional snapping of 
a twig, Tom stole on, hoping to find the men fast asleep. He 
did not go far before he halted, and after waiting a moment, 
turned and beckoned for Sam. That worthy was quickly at the 
lad’s side. 

“They are both sound asleep,” whispered Tom with great 
caution. “Now is our chance.” 

The rascals seemed to be in a drunken sleep, and Sam and 
Tom went boldly about their work. That both our friends 
had trusted too much to appearances was soon proved. 

Just as they were beginning to unhitch the animals they felt 
themselves seized from behind, and a rough voice cried: 

“Got yer that time, darn yer. Wanted to steal our hosses did 
yer? We’ll show you a game wuth two o’ that.” 

Our friends were in the strong grasp of the ruffians, and 
though they put up the best fight they could, they were quickly 
tied with ropes. The bummers had prepared themselves for the 
work, and each had ready a noose which was deftly slipped 
over the hands of the prisoners. 

The unfortunate pair not only had their hands secured, but 
they were both bound to small trees. The two rogues who 
seemed to have forgotten the very existence of Ned, or had 
not noticed him at all, now proceeded to get gloriously drunk. 

They had an abundant supply of liquor, for though they had 
already emptied one canteen, there still remained three others 
that had not been touched. 

While they smoked and drank, they talked freely in hearing 
of their prisoners. Toml learned how he had been tricked, and 
this only added to the bitterness of his defeat. He wondered 


184 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


how long Ned would wait for them, and feared that he would 
come back and be captured. 

It appeared from their talk that one of the men had noticed 
Tom when he made his first essay at watching. 

The lad returned to his companions, and the rogue informed 
his comrade of what he had seen. The bummers immediately 
suspected what our friends were up to, and laid plans for 
taking them by surprise. 

Sam MacDonnel felt his disgrace keenly. To be caught by 
such scoundrels was bad enough, but to be forced to stand tamely 
by and hear the boasting of these fellows was humiliation indeed. 

Unfortunately, that was not the worst of it, for there was 
the lad he had promised to take care of liable to be carried off 
or perhaps murdered, and all through him. 

Our worthy friend might have made himself easy so far as 
carrying off or murdering was concerned, for these villains had 
no idea of doing either. 

At most they might give Sam and Tom a terrible beating 
and then turn them loose. They were not going to burden them- 
selves with prisoners, and they would gain nothing by murder. 

In his desperation Sam made several attempts to free his 
hands, but all in vain. The scoundrels had done their work 
only too well. 

Tom, who had watched his friend’s efforts, shook his head 
and said despondently: 

“There is no use trying, Sam; they’ve got us this time.” 

In the meanwhile the men were becoming more and more in- 
toxicated. Finally, one of them in attempting to raise the canteen 
to his lips, fell over in a drunken stupor. 

The other, cursing his comrade for an awkward fool, seized 
the canteen from which the liquor was spilling and took a deep 
draught. He then fell back against a tree near which he had 
been sitting. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


185 


Almost in the same moment Tom felt some one tugging at 
his hands, and looking over his shoulder saw his brother trying 
to unfasten the knots in the rope which bound him. 

“Get Sam’s knife,” Tom whispered, “and hurry up. You 
will never do anything with these devlish knots unless you cut 
them. You are drawing them tighter all the time.” 

Swiftly Ned ran, asking when he reached Sam’s side: 

“Where is your knife?” 

“In the lef’ han’ britches pocket,” Sam replied. 

Ned had the knife out of Sam’s pocket in a jiffy and had 
released his friends before they recovered from their astonish- 
ment at seeing him. 

The two who had been so near paying dearly for their lack 
of caution previously, now kept close watch upon the thieves. 
Sam and Tom were more than ever determined to have the horse 
and mule. 

Taking up the six shooters which the men had laid aside, 
Sam tossed them far into the bushes. The saddling up took 
place quickly, while Ned held the cudgels ready for an 
emergency. 

The start for the road was made in good order, but when 
Sam was passing the villain who sat against the tree, the latter 
cried wickedly as he staggered to his feet: 

“Whar in the h are you goin’ with them creeturs?” 

Sam, who now had his bludgeon in his hand, swung it ’round 
his head and caught the fellow a blow square in the mbuth. 

“Take that, you onery cuss,” he cried, as the fellow dropped 
to the ground minus several of his teeth. 

Observing the two canteens hanging upon a bush, Sam re- 
marked with a sly wink at his young friends : 

“We’uns ain’t drinkin’ no licker now, but this hyar corn- 
juice is jest what my ole ’oman needs fur toe make some 
camphire.” 


1 86 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The two brothers mounted their father’s horse, while Sam 
got astride of the mule. Like knights of old returning from 
victory, they rode away in triumph upon the recaptured animals. 

Colonel Hall and Doctor Archer looked on the restoration of 
their stock as little short of miraculous, and our travellers 
felt that they were entitled to all the praise that was bestowed 
upon them. From both gentlemen Sam MacDonnel received a 
substantial and well-earned reward. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 


END OF THE WAR 

The storm of War which swept over some parts of the South 
in the winter of 1864 did not trouble our friends in D . 

In fact, the people had become so accustomed to marching 
armies and parties of raiders that some of them actually missed 
the excitement. Spring brought partial relief to those having 
means of engaging in work. 

It was early in April, 1865, and Doctor Archer, who had 
been some miles toward Marietta visiting a patient, brought 
the news of Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. 

The folks could hardly credit the report at first, but it was 
soon fully confirmed. The war in which thousands of lives 
were sacrificed, and which brought sorrow into so many homes, 
was ended at last. 

Towards the end of April General Johnston surrendered to 
General Sherman. The month following Generals Dick Taylor 
and Kirby Smith laid down their arms. These last had pro- 
longed the struggle somewhat, but the war was really over with 
the capitulation of General Lee. 

In many sections of the South matters remained unsettled 
for a long time. The people could not get down to regular 
work. Food was scarce, and numbers of the inhabitants were 
almost without the necessities of life. 

Very few had any hidden stores remaining, but later the Fed- 
eral government issued rations and thereby prevented much 
suffering among the people. 


1 88 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Fortunately the climate of Georgia and other Southern States 
was mild even in winter, and the people managed to get along 
with very little clothing. 

One small darkey is recalled who ordinarily wore nothing. 
On Sundays and baptizing occasions a coffee sack with open- 
ings for head and arms afforded him a splendid garment. 

Good fortune seemed to attend the family of Doctor Archer 
about his time. Not only was his horse recovered, but upon 
going to the stable one morning Jim found the cow there with 
a calf at her side. Where she had been all the time was never 
ascertained. 

Mr. Bidwell had returned to his former home after Sher- 
man’s advance upon Atlanta, and there was no one to open a 
school. This left the lads of the town with much idle time upon 
their hands. We shall see later how they took advantage of 
this state of affairs. 

Tom Archer’s mind had lately been dwelling upon things 
Masonic, in consequence of his father’s home having been saved 
by one of that fraternity. He had thought for some time of 
getting up a lodge among the boys, and one day asked a few 
of his playmates to meet him at the courthouse next morning. 

He reached the place early and found a good crowd awaiting 
him. 

“Boys,” cried he, as the others gathered ’round him, “I have 
thought of a new kind of fun and believe you will all like it.” 

“What is it, Tom?” asked half dozen lads at once, for some- 
thing novel in the shape of sport was what they were looking for. 

“We are going to get up a lodge,” was Tom’s reply. 

“A lodge. What in the dickens is a lodge?” inquired one 
little tow-headed, freckled-face fellow. 

“I know,” cried Charley Hall. “It is a Mason’s lodge. My 
father belongs to one, and he has some of his regalia at home 
now.” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


189 


“So does my father,” exclaimed Walter Breese, who did not 
propose to let the other boy have all the honor that pertained 
to having a relative who was a member of the Masonic order. 

“That’s nuthin’,” yelled Mickey Dolan, a small red-headed 
chap of Irish extraction. “My mammy and daddy both be- 
longs to one of them air lodges.” 

A loud laugh from the boys greeted this statement, and 
Mickey looked very sheepish, especially as one of the larger 
boys said to him : 

“Mickey, you are telling a lie, for women are not allowed 
to join lodges.” 

Some further talk took place among the boys which resulted 
in Tom Archer, Walter Breese and Charley Hall being appointed 
to open the lodge and initiate candidates. 

The charter members, if we may so term them, retired to a 
room in the courthouse for a short consultation. 

In twenty minutes it was announced that the lodge would 
meet in the room over the bar at Lair’s hotel. The committee 
stated that the candidates must assemble upon the second day 
following, and the boys were told not to talk about what was 
going on. 

“If Bruner’s gang find out what we are doing, they will try 
to break up the lodge,” said Walter Breese. 

Being thus warned, most of the boys went off to play, but 
Tom Archer had much to do and bent his steps homeward to 
prepare for the great event. For the rest of the day Tom was 
a busy lad. 

Now, the youngster really had no idea how a lodge should 
be opened or conducted, but he had formed some plans of his 
own, and these he proceeded to carry out. Finding that he 
would need some assistance, Tom confided the secret to his 
mother. 

Mrs. Archer was always ready to help her boys if she saw no 


190 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


harm in what they proposed to do. In the present instance 
there appeared to be only boyish fun, and she readily gave Tom 
her advice. Begging his mother to keep the matter quiet, Tom 
went off to make some further arrangements for the organiza- 
tion of the lodge. 

First he saw Sam MacDonnel, who made him a couple of 
staffs four feet long. These were painted, one red, the other 
blue, with some paint that Sam had on hand. 

Walter Breese and Charley Hall called to see Tom in the even- 
ing, and certain mlatters relating to the lodge were discussed. 
When the lads parted for the night they agreed that on the 
morrow they would meet at Lair’s hotel, and then prepare for 
the opening of the lodge and the initiation of candidates. 

A number of articles which would be needed for the first meet- 
ing the boys agreed to bring with them the following day. 

Tom called Jim from the kitchen at the request of his brother 
Masons, and he and the negro boy walked to the courthouse 
with the two lads. Walter and Charley declared they were not 
afraid, but wanted a little more talk with Tom. 

The first thing the three boys did when they met the next 
day, as previously agreed upon, was to look for some pieces of 
thin board. These were pulled from the side of the hotel and 
fashioned into a kind of table, which was placed at one side of 
the room to be in readiness when needed. 

Tom had arranged a sort of ceremony, and this was now 
rehearsed under his direction. Such property of the lodge as had 
already been secured was hidden in a closet in one comer of 
the room. The door was fastened with a large padlock and 
the key was given to Tom Archer. The latter had agreed to 
furnish what regalia was necessary and to deposit it in the 
closet that night when all was quiet in town. 

Now Tom, as you may suppose, had no idea of going to the 
tavern alone at night. Sam MacDonnel had promised to go with 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


191 

him, and some time after dark they went up to the hostelry, 
each bearing a bundle. 

What these bundles contained will appear later. Sufficient to 
say that the light of a small piece of candle assisted Sam and 
Tom in stowing them away in the closet. 

The negro boy Jim had been to Colonel Hall’s upon an errand 
and was returning about the time our friends were disposing of 
their bundles. He was passing the tavern when he looked 
up at the windows in the room over the bar. A dim light and 
two ghostly figures were moving about. Who could be in that 
lonely and deserted building at such an hour? 

Frightened almost out of his senses, Jim stood there without 
the power to move. The light suddenly vanished, and a moment 
later he heard some one coming down the stairway. The charm 
was broken, and without looking behind he fled from the spot 
crying fearfully: 

“My Gawd, de debbil is cornin’ and he’s after dis nigger!” 

The frightened boy ran as if for life, and when Tom reached 
the house and went to the kitchen he found Jim telling Aunt 
Lucy what he had seen. 

The lad tried to explain the cause of Jim’s fright, but all in 
vain. To his dying day the negro boy probably believed that 
he just missed being carried off by two supernatural beings. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 


THE LODGE OPENS 

Surround a thing with secrecy and you invest it with tenfold 
importance. This has been true in all ages and in all countries. 
It is human nature to be desirous of getting at the bottom of a 
secret, and men will risk much in seeking to remove the veil which 
hides a mystery. 

For two days nearly a score of boys had puzzled their brains 
about the lodge. They knew they must be quiet concerning it, or 
they would not be allowed to join. 

Among themselves the matter had been freely discussed, and 
two or three of their number had tried without success to learn 
from the charter members what was going on at the old tavern. 

Two boys had made a visit to the building, but found the 
door of the lodge room securely locked. This only whetted 
their curiosity, already raised to a high degree, and they could 
scarcely wait for the hour when the mysteries of the order 
should be revealed to them. 

The great day at length arrived, and in the lower hall of the 
hotel stood a dozen or more boys ranging in age from ten to 
fifteen years. 

They were very anxiously awaiting the summons which they 
had been told to expect at any moment. They were becoming 
rather boisterous, when a call from the top of the stairway 
reached them, and instantly all noise ceased. 

By previous agreement of the marshals it had been decided 
that in order to save time and give the candidates greater cour- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


193 


age, two of them should be initiated together. Accordingly a 
couple of boys, not without some misgiving, proceeded up the 
steps in answer to the call. 

On reaching the head of the stairs they were received by 
Charley Hall. This youngster was highly elated when he saw 
the astonishment created by his regalia. 

His head was crowned with a kind of turban, ornamented 
with a short feather. This and a faded red sash, found in the 
attic at home, completed his attire outside of his usual garments. 

The boys had hardly recovered from their surprise when 
Charley gave three short raps upon the lodge room door with 
a red staff which he held in his hand. 

In reply to this signal, a voice from within demanded : 

“Who knocketh at the door?” 

“Strangers who wish to enter our mystic circle,” replied 
Charley Hall impressively. 

This answer must have been satisfactory, for the door opened 
and Walter Breese stepped outside. He bore in his hand a blue 
staff, and his sash was of the same color. The most con- 
spicuous feature of his strange costume was an old military 
chapeau, which might have, years agone, graced the head of his 
great grandsire. 

The boys seemed very much impressed by his appearance, 
and were still gazing with wonder when he informed them that 
they must submit to being blindfolded. Walter then placed a 
bandage over the eyes of each candidate, after which he gave them 
certain directions and led them into the lodge room. 

An old gong, once the property of the hotel, hung near Tom 
Archer, and this he struck lightly three times. The striking of 
the gong was a signal to the assistant marshals to march the can- 
didates thrice 'round the room. 

To Charley Hall had been assigned the duty of selecting 
something to sing during the ceremony of marching. To his 


194 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


utter dismay he had forgotten all about the matter until that 
moment. What was he to do? He must sing something. In 
his desperation he struck up in a boyish treble: 

“Come ye sinners, poor and needy.” 

A stroke upon the gong and a frown from the grand mar- 
shal told him to bring the march to an end. This was done, 
and the blindfolded boys were led to a position in front of the 
table, behind which stood Tom Archer. 

“Are you ready to behold the mysteries of the order?” asked 
Tom grandly, at the same time giving a rap upon the gong. 

The candidates, having been previously instructed, answered, 
it must be confessed, in a tone that seemed to express some 
doubt as to their readiness: 

“We are ready to behold these mysteries.” 

“The marshals will now remove the veil which hides us from 
the eyes of these strangers,” commanded Tom, rather pompously. 

The bandage was dropped from the eyes of each boy, who 
up to this time had looked upon the whole thing as a frolic. 

What they beheld on now being allowed the use of their sight 
checked all tendency to mirth and made them feel rather serious. 
Joining the lodge might not be so much fun as they had thought. 

These lads had regarded the costumes of Walter Breese and 
Charley Hall as something very grand. They now gazed upon 
Tom Archer, who stood before them as chief marshal, and won- 
dered if it was possible that any garments could exist which 
would compare favorably with the splendor of his regalia. 

Back in the old student days of Doctor Archer he had been 
presented with a dressing gown and a smoking cap. The gown, 
like Joseph’s coat, was of many colors, while the cap was a 
bright red with a tassel of gilt hanging at one side. The cap 
was perched jauntily over Tom’s right ear. 




The Initiation 



THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


195 


These two articles of attire had long since been forgotten 
by the doctor. They had lately been hunted up by his wife to 
adorn the person of her son Tom, and serve as Masonic regalia. 

The gown was rather large for the boy, but it had some good 
features nevertheless. It came down low enough to hide his 
bare feet, and also lent to him a patriarchal appearance. 

To add to the deep impression he had made upon the candi- 
dates, and with a view of increasing their awe of him, Tom drew 
himself up to his full height and gazed sternly at the boys. 
Next he drew from a scabbard at his side a long sabre. This he 
flourished dangerously near the noses of the two youngsters. 

Lowering the sabre and speaking in a voice which he endeav- 
ored to render solemn and impressive, he addressed the candi- 
dates : 

“Place your hands upon this emblem of death which is now 
revealed to you, and dismiss all worldly thoughts from your 
minds.” 

As Tom uttered the last words, one of the marshals quickly 
removed a piece of cotton goods from some object upon the 
table. The boys looked, and beheld a human skull. 

This had been found near some breastworks in one of Colonel 
Hall’s fields and was regarded by the charter members as the 
strongest feature of the initiatory ceremony. 

The candidates looked at each other and then at the grinning 
skull upon the table, scarcely knowing whether to obey the com- 
mand or not. But not wishing to seem afraid, they placed their 
h..nds very gingerly upon the gruesome thing. 

There they stood, the tips of their fingers just touching the 
• :ull, while they were wondering what was to follow. Striking 
t e gong a resounding blow, Tom said when the noise had died 
away: 

“The first assistant marshal will now administer the oath to 
the candidates.” 


196 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Walter Breese now stepped forward, holding in his hand an 
old Pike’s Arithmetic. The boy had brought this book from 
home in order to appear to read from it. He opened at that 
page which all who have used the arithmetic will remember had 
a picture of a cow tied to a stake by a rope, which was fastened 
to the tail of the animal. The picture illustrated a problem in 
mensuration. 

Looking intently at the engraving, he coughed and cleared his 
throat several times with great affectation, and then pretended to 
read as follows: 

“You now swear to obey the rules of the lodge. You must 
stick to the members if they get in fights or any other trouble. 
If you know that the wife and children of any of the brethren 
are in need, you shall go to their rescue. You must never tell 
any secrets of the order or betray the members. 

“If you do not obey all the rules your head will be cut off 
with a flaming sword and your body cast into outer darkness, 
where the lion roareth and the unicorn mourneth for its young. 
And may the Lord have mercy upon you, even to the third and 
fourth generation.” 

The oath was not read by Walter, as he had memorized it. 
He seemed to think the candidates did not know the difference, 
so it did not matter very much anyway. 

Taking the oath completed the ceremony of initiation, and 
the boys were told that they were now members. They were 
given a white sash and had the honor of marching ’round with 
other candidates. A password and sign of recognition were 
given to each member prior to the adjournment of the lodge. 

Only eight were taken into the lodge at the first meeting, for 
some of the youngsters grew tired of waiting and went off to 
play. A week later about a dozen were initiated, and the mem- 
bership then numbered more than twenty. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 


TAKING THE FIRST DEGREE 

During the time that the lodge was in process of organiza- 
tion, Doctor Archer was almost wholly engaged in looking after 
two very serious cases of fever. He had, for the foregoing 
reason, heard nothing of the so-called Masonic lodge up to this 
time. 

One morning soon after the second meeting of the lodge, the 
doctor sat on the piazza engaged with a book. Tom, who was 
near by, said with affected carelessness: 

“Father, what is the next thing the Masons do after initiating 
candidates ?” 

“Why do you ask that question, my son?” inquired the doc- 
tor. 

“Some of us boys have gotten up a lodge and we don’t know 
what to do after the candidates are initiated,” replied Tom. 

“The next thing would be to take the degrees,” rejoined the 
doctor, who with a smile upon his face was thinking of the 
call of the raiders and what Tom had said upon that night. 

“How do you go about taking the degrees ?” questioned the lad. 

“That would be telling secrets out of the order,” answered the 
doctor. 

“Do the Masons ever have any fun in the lodge?” asked the 
boy after pondering for a moment over his father’s last reply. 

“That depends upon what you call fun,” returned the father. 
“Most of us manage to have a pretty good time upon certain 
occasions.” 


198 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


A call for the doctor brought the conversation to an end. 
Some time later in the day Tom sought his friend Sam, hoping 
that the latter would be able to help him out of his dilemma. 

“We have decided that we must have some fun in the lodge,” 
began the lad the moment he was seated on the chest in the shop. 
“We must try to get up something besides the initiation or the 
boys will quit coming. Have you any idea what Masons do to 
have a good time?” 

“We’uns have heerd,” commenced Sam very slowly, “that the 
candydates air made toe ride a goat and clime a greasy pole.” 

“Do you believe that, Sam?” asked the boy, rather dubiously. 

“Well,” replied Sam, “we’uns not bein’ a Mason, never seed it 
done. A man whut wuz one, sed that ef we’uns jined the 
lodge that is whut we’uns would have toe do, but hit mite hev 
bin only a joke.” 

Having gained nothing that he thought he could use either 
from his father or Sam, nothing remained but to consult the 
marshals and get up what they could. 

Tom had a talk with Walter and Charley, and the three boys 
arranged a ceremony for the first degree. 

A notice was sent out to the members to assemble at the lodge 
on a certain day, and the first degree would be conferred upon 
all who were present. 

The appointed day arrived and nearly all the members were 
on hand. The grand marshal called the lodge to order and 
requested every one except the officers to vacate the room. This 
left only the charter members, three in number, and they pro- 
ceeded to work. 

The marshals, Walter Breese and Charley Hall, brought in 
the members one at a time. In order that the conferring of the 
degree may be more clearly understood some explanation is 
necessary. 

Owing to the scarcity of material at this time, only few, if 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


199 


any, of the members possessed more than one pair of breeches, 
as they were called. 

In some cases this one pair was plentifully adorned with 
patches. Any harm, therefore, befalling these indispensable 
articles of wearing apparel was a serious matter to the owners, 
and they tried to take the very best care of them. 

After a member had been blindfolded and led into the lodge, 
he was conducted to a position in the centre of the room. A 
very strong piece of cotton goods, which was firmly held at 
either end, was stretched by the assistant marshals across the 
rear of the lad’s breeches. Then the blade of a knife was drawn 
through the cotton with a loud and ripping sound. 

This noise of itself was enough to convince the subject of 
the joke that serious and irreparable damage was being done 
to his precious garments. But when one of the marshals entreat- 
ingly cried to the other not to cut the boy’s breeches so much, 
all doubt vanished from his mind. 

With this the fun commenced. The excited and frightened 
youngster tore the bandage from his eyes, and it was very 
laughable to witness his efforts in trying to bring the rear of 
his breeches far enough around to see what harm had befallen 
them. 

At length he found that no damage had been done, and he 
looked very sheepish indeed. He scarcely knew whether to 
laugh or cry or challenge one of the members for a fight. 

The fun waxed fast and furious, and the din increased with 
each recipient of the degree. 

The number of boys growing larger, they joined hands 
and danced ’round the candidate as he hunted for the supposed 
rent in his breeches. In the meantime they yelled like a pack 
of Indians. 

Some of the lads were so worked up over what they at first 


200 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


supposed w&s a cruel practical joke, that they really wanted 
to fight. 

Two of them had already seized each other’s collars, but on 
hearing the laughter of the members ’round them, they looked 
foolish for a moment and then shook hands very cordially. 

So much stamping and shouting could not fail to attract the 
attention of any one passing the building. It happened that 
Dick Bruner and a gang of his contrades who had been to the 
Pumpkin Vine were on their way home and heard the noise. 

This young ruffian and all his followers had been denied 
admission to the lodge. They now determined to break it up, 
and Bruner boastfully declared : 

“We have got them fellers all right this time. They’ve got 
nuthin’ to fight with, an’ we’ll rock ’em out an’ run ’em home.” 

But this was not the first time that Bruner was mistaken where 
Tom Archer was concerned, as our readers know. On one 
occasion the fellow had been heard to remark: 

“If them chaps don’t let me jine that ’ere lodge, I will bust 
the whole doggoned thing up.” 

Not to be caught napping, the members from time to time 
had carried hundreds of small stones up into a room adjoining 
the lodge. 

These stones were just a good size for throwing a short dis- 
tance, and were piled ready until the time should come for their 
use. The hour had arrived to prove the wisdom of this pre- 
caution. 

The fun was at its height in the room, when bang! came a 
volley of stones against the house. Two or three boys who were 
near the windows were struck, though none were hurt. The 
alarm which had been excited by the unexpected attack was of 
short duration, and the boys of the lodge prepared to defend 
themselves. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


201 


The lads under the leadership of the grand marshal stationed 
themselves at points of vantage near the windows and at the 
head of the stairway. Bruner, with his gang at his heels, and 
expecting no resistance, entered the tavern to drive out his 
enemies. 

They were scarcely inside the hall when a galling fire of stones 
greeted them. They retreated from the building, and as they 
reached the street a heavy volley came from the windows. They 
sought safety just across the road behind the sheltering oaks 
of the grove. 

“Fill your pockets with rocks,” shouted Tom Archer, “and 
we will run them out of town quicker than they came.” 

Tom waited ’til the boys were ready with their ammunition 
and then led them to the basement. Dividing his forces, he sent 
Walter Breese ’round to the left of the tavern, while he took 
command of the other division and went to the right. Tom’s 
idea was to attadk Bruner upon both flanks at the same time. 

This plan succeeded so well that his enemy was completely 
routed. In less than five minutes Tom Archer’s forces drove 
Bruner’s gang from the town. He followed them closely and 
smote them hip and thigh, giving them no time for rallying. 

This stone battle led to others, and soon every boy in and 
around town was enrolled on one side or the other. Events 
of great importance, which happened just at this time, caused 
the boys to lay aside their weapons and also their regalia for 
some weeks. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 


AN UNWELCOME RETURN 

Tim Bannon left town warned by Bob Peyton never to return 

upon penalty of being killed. No one in D ever expected 

him back, and his departure was considered a great blessing by 
those who knew him. Since his recent trouble his connection 
with more than one ugly affair had leaked out. 

Frequently, after the close of the war, small bodies of Con- 
federate soldiers passed through D on their way to their 

homes in Tennessee and other States. Some of these would 
halt only for the night, while others would stay as long as two 
or three weeks, recruiting their strength and resting their war- 
worn horses. 

These passing soldiers disturbed no one, and as they brought 
the news from other sections, the people were glad to see them. 
Through the agency of these men returning from the war, missing 
ones were occasionally located and restored to their friends, who 
had given them up as lost. 

It was the last day of June, and the sun was just sinking out 
of sight behind the hills, when a body of more than thirty men 
rode into town. For a camping place, they selected the grove 
in the rear of the courthouse, halting not far from the town 
spring. 

Several lads, among whom was Ned Archer, were playing ball 
there at the time. They immediately quit their game and, after 
waiting to see the men dismount, carried home the unwelcome 
news that Bannon was with the strangers. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


203 


Doctor Archer was greatly troubled when he heard that Tim 
Bannon was evidently the leader of the newcomers. He knew 
this man would never have dared to return alone, and if he was 
actually here, backed by thirty men, his coming could mean but 
one thing, the killing of the Peyton boys. 

Sam MacDonnel was present when Ned Archer brought the 
news to his father, and the next day, after dinner, he visited the 
camp. Bannon, he learned, had gone to see his family, and Sam 
gathered from the conversation of these raiders that they ex- 
pected to remain about the neighborhood for some time. 

Seeing some men playing cards, Sam sauntered near. 

“Have you eny terbaccer?” asked one of the players. 

This gave our friend an opening, and as he handed the fellow 
a twist of “home made,” he remarked suggestively : 

“Ef you’ens air goin’ to be heer a spell, we’uns kin git you’ens 
sum’ good licker, but hit depen’s on how long you’ens stay.” 

To such men as these liquor was always welcome, and Sam 
MacDonnel was perfectly aware of this fact. To get the raiders 
to talk, he had made the offer of procuring strong drink for 
them. 

That Sam was a judge of such matters was certain, for upon 
the conclusion of his offer, one of the men said with a grin, as he 
slyly stole a card : 

“The captin sed we’uns would be heer a couple of months or 
more.” 

Sam loitered ’round the camp but a short time after hearing 
this, and then went down to report to Doctor Archer. 

The latter shook his head when he heard Sam’s story, and 
observed : 

“These men are here for no good, and I would advise that you 
say as little as possible to any one about them.” 

“We’uns knows Bannon tu well toe talk about him,” replied 
Sam. “All we’uns wants is toe keep away from him.” 


204 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


That evening, after having eaten his supper, Sam went out to 
split some kindling for morning. He finished his work and, 
resting his axe upon the woodpile, stood thinking of the raiders. 

Suddenly, and without the least warning, a hand fell upon 
his shoulder while a voice shouted close to his ear : 

“Hello, Sam, old boy. What are you studying so deeply 
about ?” 

Sam was terribly scared at first, but when he found Bob Pey- 
ton standing at his side his fright was soon over. 

“What in the devil do you’ns mean by skeering a feller that 
a-way, Bob?” he asked reproachfully. 

“Nothing in the world,” returned the young man, “I only won- 
dered what you could be thinking about,” and Bob sent out a 
joyous laugh, as he thought how Sam had jumped. 

But the laugh died in his throat, when Sam said seriously: 

“We’uns wuz jes thinkin’ whut Tim Bannon had cum back 
toe town with a passel uv men fur.” 

The young fellow looked at his friend a moment and then 
asked, while a dangerous light shone in his blue eyes: 

“What do you mean, Sami?” 

Sam saw that Bob was in no humor for jesting, and he told 
what he saw and heard in the camp near by the courthouse. 

“You wanted to know what brought that fellow back here,” 
quietly said Bob Peyton when Sam had finished. “Well, I will 
tell you. He has come back to kill my brother Jim and myself. 
What other devilish work he will do, I know not, but he will 
try to put us out of the way first.” 

“You’ens will have time toe git clar off befo’ he comes, ef 
you’ens would try,” returned Sam. 

Speaking in a tone that caused a creepy sensation to traverse 
the spine of our friend, Peyton declared hotly: 

“We will never run from the cowardly cur, with all his men 
to back him, and if I don’t kill him he is welcome to my scalp.” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


205 


Before Sam could think of anything to say the young man 
was gone. Gathering up his kindling and going into the house, 
Sam remarked to his wife as he threw the wood into a small 
box near the stove : 

“Ole ’oman, thar’s goin’ toe be excitin’ times ’bout this town 
befo’ meny days.” 

Doctor Archer and his wife worried themselves a great deal 
about the Peyton boys, for they were convinced that Bannon 
had returned to kill them. 

It was supposed that these young men sometimes played 
cards for money, but no one ever accused them of cheating. 
Although they were somewhat wild, they were generous and 
brave, and were pretty well liked by the citizens of the town. 

If possible the doctor would have sent some warning to Pey- 
tons, but this would have been a very dangerous undertaking. 
For had Bannon learned who had put the young fellows upon 
their guard, he would never have rested until he had revenged 
himself upon them. Had the doctor been alone he would not 
have hesitated, but there was his family. 

Late one afternoon the raider and about twenty of his men 
rode out of town, going in the direction of Peyton’s home. They 
were all heavily armed, and all who saw them knew that this 
expedition meant something more than a raid upon smoke-house 
or hen-roost. 

“They are after the Peyton boys,” observed Mr. Breese, who 
had been to the mill and stopped in at Doctor Archer’s on his 
return. 

Bannon was for a certainty leading his men on a night raid 
upon Peytons, but he did not find them totally unprepared as 
he had expected. They were not only ready for him, but were 
reinforced by two of the Widow Allen’s boys. 

The plundering villains reached Peyton’s home some time after 
dark and orders were given the raiders to dismount. The 


206 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


horses were put in charge of a couple of men most suited for that 
purpose and the rest were ordered to move through the woods 
so as to completely surround the house. 

The building stood in a clearing of considerable: size, and there 
was a large body of timber around the tract. A narrow wagon 
road led to the main thoroughfare and Bannon remained near 
this road directing his men to the positions he wished them to 
occupy. 

All was now silent in the neighborhood, and the deep darkness 
hid the raiders who stole forward upon murderous work intent. 
The only sounds which disturbed the quiet of the night was 
the faint chirping of a cricket or the mournful cry of a whip- 
poorwill. 

Far off in some field could be heard the tinkle tinkle of a 
cowbell, while occasionally a watchful dog sent forth a loud bark 
to be echoed in the distance. 

Seeing no light in the house, Bannon’s men thought that all 
inside were asleep and that an easy victory awaited them. 
They started slowly across the clearing and were about half 
way when, without the least warning, a shot rang out and a 
man fell dead. 

So sudden was this shot and such was its effect upon the 
raiders, that when three more reports were heard from the build- 
ing they retreated rapidly without firing a gun. 

No threats or persuasions could induce Bannon’s men to 
make another attempt. All they would do was to bring off the 
body of their comrade. This they consigned to a shallow grave 
not far from the main road. 

As the defeated raiders rode upon their way to town, Bannon 
said vindictively: 

“There were two men in that house besides Peytons, and I’ll 
kill them on sight.” 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 


A TERRIBLE DEED. 

Having left home very early in the morning following the raid 
upon the Peyton home, Doctor Archer did not learn the result 
of the expedition until towards night. He was then returning 
after his ride in the country, and heard the particulars from one 
of his neighbors. 

The doctor’s wound troubled him, and he was much fatigued 
by the work of the day. He retired pretty soon after supper. 
For an hour, perhaps, the doctor slept soundly and might have 
continued to do so had he not been aroused by a knocking at 
the hall door. 

He was about falling asleep again when the knocking was 
repeated. Without stopping to put on all of his clothing, the 
doctor hurried to the door. 

Before he reached there he heard the sound of footsteps 
retreating across the piazza. He was not greatly surprised to find 
no one just outside when the door was opened. 

“There certainly must have been some person here,” thought 
he, “for I heard him walk across the piazza.” 

While he listened and peered out into the night he heard the 
trampling of horses, and some one who had perhaps been 
waiting for the opening of the door called to him!: 

“Doctor, I am going a few miles into the country and need an 
extra horse for one of my men. Can I have the use of yours? 
I will take good care of him.” 

Doctor Archer was sure he recognized Bannon’s voice, but he 
said : 


208 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Who are you? I would not care to lend my horse to a 
stranger.” 

“This is Tim Bannon,” returned that person, “and J will be 
greatly obliged if you can spare me your horse.” 

The doctor had not time to refuse or grant request before his 
wife was at his side. Placing her hand lightly upon her husband’s 
shoulder, she said in a tone of entreaty : 

“Do not lend that man your horse. He is going after the 
widow Allen’s boys and will murder them.” 

Feeling very well satisfied that his wife had a £ood reason 
for what she said, the doctor replied to Bannon : 

“My horse has been going all day and is fagged out, and 
besides, I will have to ride him again in the morning. You will 
have to make some other arrangement.” 

Without waiting to hear anything further, Bannon answered 
pleasantly : 

“All right, doctor. I am sorry I disturbed you,” and rode 
away with his men following him. 

The doctor watched the raiders as they moved ofif, and there 
was just enough light from the moon for him to see that one 
of the horses seemed to carry a double burden. 

He was not mistaken, and later he learned that Dick Bruner 
had accompanied these men to show them the road. It was for 
this misguided young scamp that the horse was wanted. 

No sooner had the men ridden away than Mrs. Archer ex- 
plained to her husband why she had asked him not to lend 
his horse. 

“Sam MacDonnel was up town during the day and heard 
some of the raiders talking about this trip. It seems that Ban- 
non had learned that the Widow Allen’s two youngest boys had 
assisted the Peytons to repel the attack upon their home, and 
he has sworn to kill them.” 

“I am truly thankful,” replied the doctor, “that I did not lend 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


209 

him my horse, though I really intended to refuse from the 
first.” 

“Now, I trust and pray the Peyton boys will be at Allen’s,” 
returned Mrs. Archer. 

“The boys may have been warned and make their escape 
before these men reach there. It is all we can hope for now,” 
remarked the doctor. 

Doctor Archer and his wife slept but little after the call of the 
raiders. They dreaded to hear the news which the morning 
was almost sure to bring. 

Just before dawn Mrs. Archer was roused by her husband, 
who said: 

“Mary, I hear Bannon and his men coming back.” 

It was but a few moments after the doctor’s remark when the 
noise made by the marching horsemen was heard. The husband 
and wife sat up the better to catch the sounds, and while the 
men did no talking, the rattling of plunder plainly told of the 
shameful robbery of the night previous. 

The family had eaten their breakfast much before the cus- 
tomary hour, and the doctor, who made use of his library for 
an office, went to that room to put up some powders. For these 
he expected a call early that morning. He had hardly begun 
his work before he heard some one tapping lightly at the front 
door of the hall. 

Thinking that this might be the boy who had come for the 
medicine, the doctor went out to request him to wait a few 
moments. At the door stood not a boy for the powders, but 
the widow Allen, looking as if she was ready to drop from 
sheer exhaustion. 

No wonder she was in such sad plight. She had slept none 
all night, and had walked the entire distance from her home 
to town, and that since daylight. 


210 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Despite her condition, she tried to relate her story, but the 
doctor led her to a couch in the sitting room and bade her lie 
down and take some rest. 

She consented to this, after being promised that she would be 
called in an hour. A soothing powder was given her and Mrs. 
Archer, having placed a soft pillow under the widow’s head, left 
the room. The poor woman dropped off to sleep, forgetting 
her trouble for that time. 

At the expiration of an hour the good lady of the house went 
into the sitting room. She found Mrs. Allen sleeping soundly, 
but thought it best to arouse her. 

Mrs. Archer had told Aunt Lucy to make a good strong cup 
of coffee to be in readiness for the widow when she awoke. 
This was now given her, and after drinking it she began to 
relate her pitiful story. 

She had been living in dread ever since the Peyton affair, and 
expected a visit any time from the raiders. She felt very uneasy 
all the afternoon, having a presentiment of disaster. 

She had remained up until nearly twelve o’clock and was just 
thinking of going to bed when Bannon rode up with his men 
and demanded admission. 

Had her oldest son been home, she would have advised 
resistance. As matters stood, she thought it was best to allow 
the raiders to take their plunder and go. 

Unfortunately, Bannon wanted that which was dearer to the 
widow than all the goods she possessed. He was seeking her 
boys with murder in his heart. 

One of these boys was but sixteen years of age, the other 
was eighteen, and these two were forcibly taken from their beds 
by the raiders. Upon her knees the mother begged for the lives 
of her children, but all in vain. 

The boys fought like tigers, but were beaten until they be- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


211 


came insensible, and were then carried away, bound hand and 
foot. The raiders not only carried off the poor woman’s sons, 
but ransacked the house from top to bottom. 

“I saw my boys tied with ropes and dragged away from home, 
and I was almost crazy,” were the concluding words of the 
widow. 

Mrs. Allen was upon the point of breaking down several times 
during the recital of her story, but she persisted to the end. 
The deepest sympathy was manifested by the doctor and his 
wife, and the former freely offered to help the widow in any 
way he could. 

“I accept your kind offer,” said Mrs. Allen gratefully. “I 
know that Bannon respects you and I beg you to go with me 
to his camp to look for my boys.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation the doctor agreed to accom- 
pany the sorrowing mother to Bannon and do all that lay within 
his power for the recovery of her sons. Knowing what he did 
of the raider and the men under him, he feared that the poor 
boys were past all help. 

Stepping into the hall to get his hat, he was astounded to see 
Bob Peyton, heavily armed, standing in the dining room door 
leading from the hall. Having some idea of the young man’s 
mission, the doctor shut the sitting room door. 

Immediately young Peyton stepped forward and in a low 
and hurried tone said huskily : 

“You will pardon me, I am sure, when you learn why I came 
into your house in this manner. Early this morning my brother 
and I heard of the raid upon Mrs. Allen’s home. Just as soon 
as we could load our rifles and revolvers we hurried away to 
try if we could reach there in time to help them. But we were 
too late. We met some men upon the way who said that the 
boys were found hanging to a tree about a mile from the 
widow’s home. Their bodies were scarcely cold when discov- 


212 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


ered by the men who were hunting squirrels this morning in 
the woods.” 

Mrs Allen was very anxious to be off to Bannon’s camp, 
and hearing the doctor talking in the hall, she started to join him. 
She had placed her hand upon the knob and had drawn the door 
slightly ajar, when she heard her name spoken. 

She stopped to listen, and almost every word uttered by Bob 
Peyton fell upon her ears. The young man had reached that 
point in his story where he told of the awful fate of her boys. 

Without waiting to hear more, the heart-broken mother begged 
to be taken home. Before leaving the house she controlled 
her feelings long enough to say to the doctor: 

“If I spend every dollar I have in this world, I’ll never rest 
until that murdering villain is killed.” 

Sam MacDonnel was sent for, and the widow and Bob 
Peyton were taken to Mrs. Allen’s home in the doctor’s spring 
wagon. 

Before night every man, woman and child in the town had 
heard of the terrible deed committed by the raiders. Nothing 
was talked of for days. 

Had the men of the town and neighborhood possessed arms 
sufficient they would have attacked these men and avenged the 
wrongs of the widow. 

It was hard to say who would be the next victim of these 
wretches. All they wanted was an excuse to rob and murder. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 


DOCTOR ARCHER IN DANGER 

One morning a weefk or two subsequent to the hanging of the 
Allen boys, Doctor Archer was returning to his home from a 
professional call in the town. On the square opposite the court- 
house he saw Tim Bannon and half a dozen or more of his 
men loitering idly about and talking among themselves. 

Upon the cross street, not a great distance away, stood a small 
group of men listening to one of their number, who appeared 
from his gestures to be relating something serious. 

Two of the men the doctor recognized as the Bradley brothers, 
both of whom had but recently returned from the war. They 
had since resumed their business of blacksmithing, which they 
had laid aside to take up arms in defense of their State. 

The brothers were strong and powerfully built men, quiet and 
peaceable generally, but terrible fighters if once aroused. They 
were now standing in front of the grocery of Fred Gordon, and 
it was the owner of the store who was doing most of the talking. 

Like the Bradley brothers, he, too, had given up his occupa- 
tion to answer the call to arms. On returning from the war 
Fred reopened his store and dispensed liquors as well as gro- 
ceries. He was very popular and had an excellent trade. 

He conducted an orderly house, and though friendly games 
were played in his place, gambling was not allowed. During 
their absence with the army Doctor Archer had often assisted 
Gordon’s family as well as the Bradleys, and any of these men 
would have died in his defence. 

The doctor was just passing the group of raiders when 


214 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Bannon, who was desirous of retaining his favor, called to him 
to stop. 

Stepping into the street so as to better address the physician, 
he said very politely : 

“Doctor, I understand that I am blamed for the murder of the 
Allen boys. Now, really, some of my men remained behind and 
did the hanging. I knew nothing about it.” 

The doctor felt sure this was a lie, and he replied warmly : 

“I cannot say who actually committed this murder, but I do 
know that it was done by men under your lead. Those who had 
a hand in the affair will only get what they deserve when they 
are shot or hung.” 

Bannon did not relish this reply, and he commenced talking 
in a loud and excited manner. 

“Boys, our friend the doctor is in bad company across the 
way,” observed Fred Gordon. “Wait a moment for me and 
we will go over there.” He ran nimbly into the store and re- 
turned in less than half a minute. 

“I am all right now,” said he on joining his friends. “We’ll 
step that way and take a hand if there’s any trouble.” 

Fred was armed with two six shooters. Very rapidly he and 
the Bradleys walked over to where the doctor was standing. 
The latter, while not at all scared, was very glad to have his 
friends at his side. 

One burly rascal who was a sergeant in Bannon’s company, 
was just speaking when the three men arrived. 

“Them Allens had no bisness at Peyton’s, an’ they got what 
they diserved,” he cried in a loud and defiant tone. 

“And you will only get what you deserve,” returned the doc- 
ton, “when you are hung, and the sooner the better.” 

“The h — 11 yer say,” retorted the ruffian. “Yer’ll git what yer 
diserve now,” and with these words he drew an ugly looking 
dirk and rushed upon the doctor. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


215 

Before the weapon could descend Phil Bradley, the younger 
of the two brothers, rushed between the villain and his intended 
victim, and with one powerful blow sent him stunned and bleed- 
ing to the earth. 

Had it not been for the promptness and coolness of Fred 
Gordon Doctor Archer and his friends might all have been 
killed. Bannon’s men had rushed forward, drawing their 
weapons as they advanced and preparing to avenge their fallen 
comrade. 

The bold little fellow sprang to the front. Levelling one of 
his big six shooters at Bannon’s heart, he shouted fiercely: 

“Order your men to stop, or by thunder, I’ll fill you so full 
of lead they’ll not be able to tote your dirty carcase away.” 

One look into that deadly tube was enough for Bannon, and 
his men were ordered to put up their weapons and return to 
camp. With much reluctance they obeyed, for they were thirst- 
ing for revenge. 

It was only because they could not spare Bannon as a leader 
that they yielded. They bore their insensible companion away, 
swearing to take vengeance at some other time upon the men 
who had baffled them. 

Bannon regretted this encounter more than any one would 
have thought, for he feared it would spoil his plans for the 
future. He returned to the camp and had a serious talk with 
the raiders, and it w'as not long before they agreed with their 
leader that it was wise to await a better opportunity for seeking 
revenge. 

Doctor Archer thanked his friends very warmly for coming 
to his aid, but both men declared it was but a small thing and 
not worth mentioning. 

“It may be a trifling matter for brave men such as you are,” 
the doctor said, “but you certainly saved my life, and I will 
never forget it so long as I live. Of this you may be assured.” 


2l6 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“And you cared for our families and kept them from starving 
while we were away,” returned Gordon, “and we will remember 
that forever. We would only be too glad to do something for 
you.” 

The next morning Doctor Archer had a visitor in the person of 
Sam MacDonnel. That the latter was the bearer of some im- 
portant news was evidenced by his excited manner and his 
apparent eagerness to relate what he knew. 

The greetings of the morning had been exchanged between 
the doctor and himself When Sam said: 

“Thar air sum soljers campin’ in the woods tother side uv the 
hanted house; a whole passel uv ’em.” 

“Soldiers!” exclaimed the doctor. “You must be mistaken, 
Sam, though I would certainly be glad to see them. We would 
be very likely to get rid of Bannon and his crew.” 

“We’uns didn’t ax ’em eny questions,” replied Sam, “but 
they’uns air soljers, an’ the hosses air lookin’ mity thin.” 

The doctor felt rather dubious about Sam not asking any 
questions, but he said nothing. Our worthy friend having dis- 
posed of his budget of news, continued up town to tell his 
story, while the doctor answered the call to breakfast. 

At table the news brought by Sam was told to the family, and 
the boys begged to be allowed to visit the soldiers. Their father 
consented to this upon condition that the lads take their usual 
time to eat breakfast. 

In less than an hour after going to the camp Tom and Ned 
returned, bringing with them a stranger. The faded grey uni- 
form, together with the erect bearing of the man, showed him 
every inch a soldier. He shook hands with the father of the 
boys, and introduced himself as Captain Ware, of the Texas 
Rangers. 

The doctor invited the captain to a seat upon the piazza and 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


217 


inquired very hospitably if there was anything he could do 
for him. 

“Your boys were kind enough to ask me to come down and 
see you,” replied the captain, “and finding that I was upon your 
property, I wanted to beg permission to camp there for a while. 
My men will give no trouble, and if what I heard this morning 
is true, the folks ’round here may need the protection of my 
rangers before many days.” 

“You were talking to Sam MacDonnel, who is an odd charac- 
ter but a good fellow, nevertheless,” returned the doctor. “What 
he told you I suppose referred to the hanging of the two boys 
of the widow Allen, and is, I regret to say, only too true. It 
was a most infamous crime.” 

The doctor, of course, granted the required permission, and 
the soldier, when he had expressed his thanks, returned to his 
men. Tom and Ned wondered why their father from the first 
had greeted the captain so cordially. 

The lads did not know at the time that the captain was a 
Mason, and had he not been, he was a Confederate soldier, which 
of itself was enough to insure him a hearty welcome from the 
physician. 

Captain Ware’s company of rangers when it left home for 
the front numbered a hundred men or more. At the close of the 
war only about twenty answered the roll call. Some had been 
badly wounded and died later, while others had been sent home 
as unfit for further service. None had ever been captured or 
deserted. 

The captain had been sent on a scouting expedition upon 
which he had captured and destroyed several army wagons. He 
was returning towards Richmond when he heard of the sur- 
render of General Lee, and this, of course, changed all his plans 
for the future. 

Having plenty of supplies taken from the captured wagons, 


2l8 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


as well as a large sum in greenbacks, Captain Ware proposed 
to his men that they start for home. 

He suggested that they could travel by easy stages to Atlanta, 
and there dispose of their horses and some captured mules, and 
go home by railroad. All agreed to this and started on the 
journey. 

Upon the trip they crossed the western part of North Caro- 
lina and arrived in D soon after the murderous deed com- 

mitted by Bannon’s raiders. Men and horses being worn out, 
they decided to halt for a time and take the rest which their 
condition required. 

Learning that the Texas rangers were camped in the grove 
near Doctor Archer’s, Bannon and his men determined to go 
away for a while. 

The leader of the raiders knew that he would not be allowed 
to disturb the Peytons, for Captain Ware’s company had pas- 
tured their horses in a field belonging to that family. 

To protect the animals the camp was to be established near by, 
and the rangers would stand between Bannon and the brothers. 

The ranger captain and his men enjoyed their rest hugely, 
for they disturbed no one and the people showed them every 
kindness within their power. These men were gentlemen, and 
no such ruffian as one of the raiders would have been tolerated 
in their camp for an hour. 

The captain often came in and spent the day at Doctor 
Archer’s, and the family, especially Tom and Ned, admired the 
brave Texan very much indeed. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 


THE LODGE RESUMES BUSINESS 

After the departure of the raiders the people of D and 

vicinity felt easier than at any time since the coming of these 
men. They could now pay a short visit to a friend or go out 
at night without expecting to find their homes plundered, and 
perhaps burned, in their absence. 

The young folks resumed their sports, and were soon gather- 
ing about their accustomed haunts. The charter members issued 
a call for the reassembling of the lodge, but many of the boys 
had grown lukewarm, and it was found very difficult to get 
them all to meet at one time. 

Tom Archer expected to get much fun out of the second 
degree, and he was determined if possible to get the lads together. 

He consulted his mother upon the subject, and in consequence 
of her advice, he sent out word that the lodge would have 
a parade. 

It no sooner became known that the parade was to be fol- 
lowed by a feast, for which Mrs. Archer was to stand sponsor, 
than the trouble ended. 

New members came in, the old ones returned, and the numbers 
were greatly augmented. It was distinctly understood that no 
boy could attend the banquet without taking the first degree. 

During the enforced idleness of the members, the regalia had 
remained undisturbed. From time to time attempts were made 
to force open the lodge room, but the big padlock upon the door 
was too strong for prying youngsters. 


220 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Owing to the increase of numbers, Mrs. Archer made a dozen 
or more sashes and several caps for the lodge. The former 
were made of cheap curtain calico, while the caps were fash- 
ioned from stiff paper. A plume of the same material was sewed 
to the top of the cap. 

The various colored sashes and caps, which had all the colors 
of the rainbow, caused the lads when arrayed in full regalia 
to resemble Indians in war paint and feathers.” 

On a certain Monday afternoon in July the lodge met to dis- 
cuss the final details of the parade. Tom Archer announced 
that the following Thursday had been selected for the banquet. 

His words were greeted with cheers and stamping of bare 
feet. Members were told to be on hand promptly, otherwise 
they would not be allowed to participate in the celebration. 

We all know how slowly the time passes to youngsters who 
await the coming of some pleasant event. How far distant 
seems the day, when a week intervenes between a boy and some 
expected holiday. 

Alas ! how different it is when age comes creeping on and the 
snow, “which never melts,” begins to whiten the hair. Time 
then flies by on swiftest wings, and weeks and months pass 
rapidly. 

Luckily everything has an end, even to boys who are antici- 
pating a feast, and when the much longed-for day arrived not 
a lad was absent from his place. All were intensely eager 
for the march to begin, and it was observed that each boy had 
taken care to give face, hands and feet a thorough scrubbing. 

Mickey Dolan, whose face did not often come in contact with 
soap and water, presented himself at the lodge with countenance 
shining like a newly scoured tin pan. He was resplendent in 
sash and cap and his father’s best breeches rolled up to suit his 
short legs. 

Captain Ware, who had accepted an invitation to take supper 







Tom Archer Leads the Parade 



THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


221 


with Doctor Archer so that he might witness the parade, arrived 
before Tom had departed for the lodge. With him the ranger 
brought a handsome silk sash which he presented to his young 
friend. 

Tom accepted the beautiful present with many thanks, and 
while assisting him to put it on the captain remarked : 

“I found this in an officer’s portmanteau which was in one of 
the wagons that fell in our hands just before the surrender. 
Judging by its quality, I should say it could not have belonged 
to any one less than a colonel.” 

At last the hour had come for the start, and the marshal was 
in his place feeling very proud of his hne sash. His usual robe! 
of office, that is to say, his father’s old dressing gown, was dis- 
carded for the time being. 

Tom laid aside this garment for the very good reason that 
it would have interfered too seriously with his movements in 
marching. Besides, the smoking cap, sash and big sabre lent 
splendor enough for this occasion. 

The boys had all donned their regalia, the gong sounded 
loudly, and without a hitch the members lined up in order for 
the march. At the command, “Forward, march,” uttered by the 
grand marshal, the column moved away. 

There were about thirty boys in line, and as they had been 
previously instructed to march a few feet apart, the column was 
by no means a short one. The youngsters themselves regarded 
it as one of the most imposing spectacles they had ever beheld. 

At the Atlanta road the column wheeled to the left, marched 
about two hundred yards south, then counter-marched to the 
big white tavern. They went once around the large square front- 
ing the courthouse, and were halted for a short rest upon the 
green. Following this, they were lined up for the march to Tom 
Archer’s home. 


222 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Thirty youngsters clad in every day dress and parading single 
file about the streets of the town would of itself have created 
much comment. But when to their ordinary attire they have 
added such a variety of regalia as no mortal ever witnessed, it 
was not surprising that the people turned out and gazed with 
wonder upon a sight so unusual. 

“What the devil are these youngsters up to anyhow?” asked 
Fred Gordon, as the column marched past his grocery. 

“They are Masons,” smilingly replied Phil Bradley. “My boy 
has joined the lodge, and Mrs. Archer has invited them all to a 
feast after the parade is over.” 

“Me bye belongs too,” proudly boasted Pat Dolan, the father 
of Mickey, “and yez mlay bet if the docthur’s good leddy has 
anythin’ to do wid ut, ’twill be all roight.” 

Tom Archer, marching at the head of the column, wore his 
cap and sash proudly, the tassels of the latter falling gracefully 
at his side. He carried his sword in his hand, and as he led 
the lodge past the house, he raised the weapon in salute to his 
father and mother and their guest, who reviewed the Masons 
from the piazza. We venture to say that this was the proudest 
moment of Tom’s life. 

The procession reached the lane, and the aides placed the 
ends of their staffs together and formed a kind of pointed arch. 
Under this arch the boys marched one by one. The marshals, 
Walter Breese and Charley Hall, felt much pride in this feature 
of the parade and looked upon it as a very impressive ceremony. 

High paper caps and calico sashes made up the regalia of all 
the lads, save the grand marshal and his assistants. Not a boy 
wore a coat and all were barefoot. Notwithstanding this 
seeming drawback, the youngsters stepped as proudly as victorious 
legions after a great battle. 

Mrs Jeffreys, Charley Hall’s sister, furnished two small flags, 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


223 


one of which was seen near the head of the procession, the other 
about the centre. Music was not lacking, and the boys compos- 
ing the band marched just behind the aides. 

Of musical instruments there were four, two fifes and a 
like number of drums. The fifes were made of joints of cane, 
and upon them was produced a pretty fair imitation of Dixie. 
Happily this was the most popular melody of the South, for it 
was the only tune that the band could play. 

A ten-gallon tin can answered the purpose of a bass drum, 
while one about half the size took the place of a kettle drum. 
What these so-called drums lacked in music, they made up in 
noise. These cans were found by Walter Breese somewhere 
about his father’s tannery, and had once been filled with har- 
ness oil. 

We have said the boys marched in the column as proudly as 
victors, but we believe that the happiest of them all was Ned 
Archer. 

Colonel Hall had presented his young friends, Tom and Ned, 
with a four wheeled wagon and two sets of double harness. 
The latter had been made by a man who worked for Mr. Breese. 
The wagon was brought from Atlanta. 

This little vehicle was no clumsy affair with wheels sawed 
from boards, but had spokes, hubs and iron tires and a box bed 
with a high seat in front. According to the colonel’s order, it 
had been nicely painted, and upon one side in large letters the 
name STONEWALL could be seen. 

For some time the boys had been training four of their largest 
goats to work together. It had been agreed to have them in 
the procession, and for fear that the animals might get fright- 
ened, Ned, with his team, was assigned a position at the rear. 
But the goats were upon their good behavior, and all passed 
off smoothly. Not a single accident occurred to interfere with 
the parade. 


224 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Captain Ware remarked to his friend as the column passed: 

“Ah, doctor, this is the golden time of life for these young- 
sters. They are happier now than many a king upon his throne.” 

“How true that is, and what small things it requires to make 
a boy happy. Why, I remember,” said the doctor, reminiscently, 
“that Ned was happy for a whole week over a small tin horse 
which I purchased for him in Richmond. He would actually 
put it upon his bed at night that he might see it the first thing 
in the morning, and throughout the day it served to amuse him.” 

“The happiest recollections of my boyhood,” said Captain 
Ware, “are of the time when my father gave me a small rifle 
and a- young horse. We then lived in a country abounding in 
game, and I have often spent whole weeks in hunting.” 

The lads, as soon as the command “break ranks” was given, 
stowed away their regalia and musical instruments in the car- 
riage house. 

Tom and Ned, wlho were givers of the feast, invited the boys 
to follow them to the big kitchen. This room, for the time being, 
had been selected for the banquetting hall, and was regarded 
as better suited for the boys than the dining room. 

Like all plantation kitchens, that of the Archer home was 
large and roomy. For the present occasion two long tables had 
been set, and these, without crowding, would have accommo- 
dated twenty persons more than were assembled. 

Tom took the head of one table, while Ned presided at the 
other. The guests were waited upon by Aunt Lucy, who, in her 
office of head waiter, was assisted by Betty MacDonnel, Jim 
and Liz. 

Getting the meal pretty well under way, Aunt Lucy left the 
other three in attendance upon the tables in the kitchen. Doctor 
Archer was entertaining his guest in the dining room, and the 
old woman went to wait upon “Marse Tom’s company.” 


CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT 


FIGHTING FOLLOWS FEASTING 

The day preceding the feast Jim had killed a fat kid, which 
was roasted whole before the big fire-place in the kitchen. It 
was removed from the spit just before the youngsters took their 
places at the table. 

As the delicious odor of the roast meat floated about the room 
it assailed the nostrils of the hungry boys, and they longed to 
begin. Like Tiny Tim in Dickens’ Christmas Carols, they could 
scarcely refrain from shrieking to be helped. 

Mrs. Archer came out long enough to see that everything was 
in proper shape. Each lad was given several slices of the savory 
and nicely browned meat of the young kid. On the same plate 
were baked sweet potatoes, and over all was poured a generous 
portion of gravy. 

Though the coffee was neither Mocha nor Java, its flavor was 
delicious to these hearty fellows. They did not know or care 
that it was, for the most part, rye, for many of them had tasted 
no coffee of any kind for months, and what mattered the rye 
to them? 

A saucer of peaches and rich milk was set before each boy 
after the first course was finished. Large plates of crullers and 
sugar cakes were put upon the table, and the lads were requested 
to help themselves. They required no urging or second invita- 
tion, and the food disappeared with astonishing rapidity. 

One small chap, upon seeing the dessert, whispered to his 
neighbor on the right: 


226 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Good Lordy, Bill, we’uns can’t eat no mo’. We’uns is mos’ 
busted already an’ thar’s still mo’ a-comin’.” 

“Yes you’ens kin,” was Bill’s reply. “Do like we’uns, and 
open a button ur two uv your britches, an’ you’ens kin eat a 
whole heap mo’. ’Taint often we’uns gits sich vittles.” 

The well meant advice of Bill was taken, and the little fellow 
let out an inch or two of his waistband and was thus enabled 
to eat his milk and peaches. 

We are very sorry to say that that youngster was taken ill 
during the night, owing, no doubt, to the fact that he had tried 
to eat more than his stomach could conveniently accommodate. 

The boys did not tarry long at table, but hurried out to the 
yard for a frolic long ere Doctor Archer and Captain Ware 
had thought of leaving the dining room. Sam MacDonnel, who 
had feasted with the boys, called Tom Archer aside after supper 
for a little talk. 

“Air you fellers goin’ toe march back through town with all 
them air fixins on?” he asked, when out of hearing of the boys. 

“Of course we are,” returned Tom, “but what if we do?” 

“Well, ef you’ens go back in that air gyarb, you’ens will git a 
lickin’,” responded Sam. 

“Who’s going to lick us ?” inquired Tom excitedly. 

“Bruner an’ a crowd of his fellers air gethered betwixt heer 
an Lairs,” Sam replied. “They wuz a whole passel uv ’em, an’ 
they’uns tried to fool me by makin’ out they wuz goin’ to play 
hidey hoop.” 

“How do you know they intended to get after us?” inquired 
Tom, whose interest in the matter was increasing. 

“ ’Case befo’ eny uv ’em seed me,” said Sam, “they’uns wuz 
runnin’ ’roun’ heer and thar pilin’ up rocks an’ lookin’ down 
this a way all the time ez ef they’uns wuz expectin’ somebody.” 

Next to getting even with Tom Archer for the thrashing he 
had received at the boy’s hands, Bruner would have enjoyed 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


227 


breaking up the lodge. Tom was well aware of this feeling upon 
the part of his enemy, and he was assured that Sam was not 
mistaken. Calling his marshals into consultation, a plan of 
action was hastily settled upon. 

The grand marshal and his two assistants went quietly about 
among the scattered members of the lodge and told them to 
assemble in the rear of the overseer’s house. The boys gathered 
promptly, the matter was explained, and all were very eager for 
the fray. 

Jim came out to see what was going on. Learning that Dick 
Bruner was to be attacked, he begged to go along with the 
boys, for he had a grievance of his own to settle. 

“You can help to win the fight much better by not going with 
us,” he was told by Tom. 

“I don’ see how dat kin be,” said Jim, with great dissatisfac- 
tion. “ kSides, I jes wanter git a crack at dat Bruny anyhow. 
Him always hollerin’ sumpin’ at me.” 

“What does he holler, Jim?” asked an inquisitive little chap 
who was hoping that Bruner would get a crack from some one. 

“Him jess open dat big mouf o’ his’n an’ holler ‘nigger, 
nigger, pull de trigger; nigger, nigger, gittin’ bigger,’ ” and Jim 
clenched his fists as he repeated the insulting words of Bruner. 

“Well, never mind that now,” said Tom soothingly. “You’ll 
have a good chance to get a crack at him, but you must do what 
I tell you and make no mistake.” 

Jim was then told to get the large drum and go up towards 
the place where Bruner and his gang were waiting. At a settled 
point he was to hide until he received notice from Tom. 

At the giving of a certain signal he must beat the drum, and 
while Bruner was looking down the road for the lodge, they 
would take him in the rear. 

The boys were led through the orchard and came out upon 


228 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


a piece of ground which had been cleared of timber before the 
war. It was now covered with a growth of young sprouts which 
grew from the stumps. 

This second growth was four or five feet high and made an 
excellent place for hiding. The ground was covered with small 
stones, and these supplied the boys with plenty of ammunition. 

This young timber extended beyond the point where Bruner’s 
gang was in hiding, and Tom Archer had but little difficulty in 
getting in the rear of his enemy. 

Tom began his preparations for battle by collecting small 
stones and placing them in piles in case of retreat. A precaution 
such as this had been known to turn the tide in more than one 
hotly contested action. 

Everything being in readiness, Tom placed his fingers to his 
lips and sent out a loud piercing sound resembling the cry of 
a pea-fowl. 

In a few seconds this w'as answered by the beating of the 
drum. Jim had heard the signal and was obeying the instruc- 
tions given him by Tom before they had separated at the over- 
seer’s house. 

A boy who had been sent out to scout returned at this 
moment and made his report. Bruner was moving slowly down 
the road, and apparently feared no attack from the rear. 

“Now is our time,” cried the leader, and each boy hastily 
gathered his ammunition and prepared to charge. 

Bruner’s forces were gazing with all eyes in the direction of 
Doctor Archer’s, expecting at any moment to see the head of 
the procession issue from the lane. 

Suddenly stones began to whistle about their ears, and be- 
fore they could turn ’round, a crowd of boys, yelling with might 
and main, rushed upon them. 

Being unable to repel the attack, they retreated and took 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


229 


refuge behind a vacant house near the street. So unexpected 
was the charge upon them that they were given no time to 
rally. 

The house behind which Bruner sought refuge belonged to 
Doctor Archer, and was situated upon the opposite side of the 
street, not far from his residence. Jim was in this building 
where he had gone to leave his drum. 

He had at first thought of joining the attacking column, but he 
saw a better way of taking vengeance for the insults which 
Bruner had heaped upon him. 

The latter rejoiced to find that there was a good pile of 
stones behind the house, and determined to make a stand there. 

In number his force was equal to that of the other side, while 
in position he had the advantage. The majority of those who 
fought for him were rough and accustomed to hard knocks, and 
the young rowdy still anticipated winning the battle. 

With these points in his favor Bruner might have kept Tom’s 
forces at bay indefinitely had it not been for the foe in ambush. 

Jim picked from the chimney several rough bits of mortar, hard 
as flint. With these in his hands he stole softly up the stairs 
to one of the rooms. Very cautiously he approached a small 
window overlooking the position of his enemy. 

Watching his opportunity, Jim let fly a piece of mortar and 
struck Bruner upon the ear. The fellow was completely dazed 
for the moment, but thinking it was a chance shot, he went 
on with the fight. 

A second and much larger piece struck him in the mouth, and 
this was followed by a blow upon his pate. His courage failed, 
and calling his gang to follow, he fled down the road past Doc- 
tor Archer’s home, and took shelter in the grove. 

Captain Ware and his host had pushed back their chairs pre- 
paratory to quitting the dining room. As the two gentlemen 
r^e from their seats, the Captain observed: 


230 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Doctor, if racket is any indication, our young Masonic 
friends are having a pretty high time.” 

The noise to which the captain referred was the yelling of the 
lads and the terrible din made by the rattling of the stones against 
the house behind which Bruner had ensconced himself. There 
was a sudden cessation in the bombardment of the building, but 
the hallooing of the excited warriors increased. 

“I have been hearing that noise and shouting for some time,” 
said the doctor, “and as it seems to be towards the front, we will 
see what causes it.” 

They stepped out and saw what looked to be a score or two 
of boys running a race. But showers of stones and the yells 
of the pursuers told a very different tale, while the bleeding faces 
showed that the affair was anything but a frolic. 

Bruner and his followers scattered through the woods below 
Doctor Archer’s residence. Coming out upon the back road they 
made for home, and being so thoroughly whipped this time, they 
never again organized or attempted another battle. 

Tom explained the matter to his father, who did not blame 
him at all. The boys gave three cheers for the doctor and his 
wife, and an extra one for the captain, and then marched in 
triumph to the lodge. 


CHAPTER TPIIRTY-NINE 


NED HAS A PARTY 

In the southern end of town, just where the road makes a 
turn for Atlanta, there lived at the time of our story a maiden 
lady who bore the surname of Brown. 

With the exception of an old negro woman, a former slave, 
Miss Brown, or Miss Sallie, as she was called by those who 
knew her best, dwelt alone. 

Miss Sallie was highly respected by all the people of the town. 
She was well educated, and before the war had been consid- 
ered rather wealthy. Fortunately, she had in the palmy days of 
the Confederacy changed most of her notes for gold. 

At the time the exchange was made Miss Brown was visiting 
an only brother, who was living in Marietta. This gentleman 
not only effected the trade of the Confederate money for gold, 
but at the outbreak of the war found a safe hiding place for 
the coin. 

The possession of this money after the surrender made her 
independent. She owned the house in which she lived, kept a 
cow, raised pigs, poultry and “garden stuff,” and thus man- 
aged to get along very comfortably. 

A man was hired to plow and work the garden and to do 
the heavier jobs around the place. An old negro woman, a 
former slave, attended to the work within the house. 

We can judge from these facts that this lady was enabled to 
lead a very agreeable life. She was especially fond of com- 
pany, and loved to go out to tea and enjoy a bit of harmless 
gossip with her neighbors. 


232 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


In return Miss Sallie would invite a number of her lady 
friends to her house for supper. Then, if possible, she would 
have them sit ’til bedtime. In those days the women took their 
sewing or knitting with them, and how their needles flew, keep- 
ing time with the chatter of many tongues. 

Parties for young folks were frequently held at her hospitable 
home. The Archer children were always invited to these gath- 
erings, for the doctor’s wife and Miss Brown were great friends. 
These ladies first met at the hospital, and their acquaintance 
ripened into a lasting friendship. 

It was probably a week prior to the reorganization of the 
boys’ lodge when Mr. Brown, of Marietta, paid a visit to his 

sister in D . He brought with him his daughter Helen, a 

pretty dark-eved girl of fifteen. The girl came like a ray of 
sunshine into the quiet home of her aunt. 

After a stay of some days Mr. Brown took leave of his friends 
and returned to his home in Marietta. Helen remained behind 
to spend some time longer with her aunt. 

On the same afternoon upon which the parade was held, Miss 
Sallie had taken her niece to call on one or two of her neighbors. 
They had come as far as the public square upon their return 
home when their attention was attracted by the beating of the 
drums as the column of boys marched by. 

The aunt consented to stop long enough for her niece to see 
the procession, and many admiring glances were cast at the 
pretty girl standing at Miss Sallie’s side. 

Sun bonnets, coarse shoes and homespun frocks had been the 

fashion in D for a long time. The prettily trimmed hat, 

store shoes and neat muslin dress worn by Helen Brown were 
looked upon by the lads as the very height of fashion. 

One shy glance only the pretty stranger gave Ned Archer as 
he drove past with his team of goats. This look was enough 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


233 


to cause the susceptible youngster to fall in love with Miss Helen 
Brown at once. Before reaching home he had formed a plan 
for seeing more of the girl with whom he was badly smitten. 

Next morning when the lad found his mother alone he 
broached the subject which had occupied his thoughts since the 
previous day. 

“I would like to have a party before long,” he said, with an 
effort to speak carelessly, “and invite about a dozen girls and 
boys.” 

“A party!” exclaimed Mrs. Archer. “Why you just had one 
yesterday.” 

“Yes, mother, I know,” replied Ned, “but that was for the 
lodge, and there were nothing but boys. I wish to invite some 
girls.” 

“Oh, I see,” rejoined Mrs. Archer, and her eyes sparkled with 
mirth. “My boy has fallen in love again.” 

Ned, who looked quite sheepish, scarcely knew what to say. 
He stood twirling his hat in his hand, wondering how his 
mother had guessed so quickly what he had in mind. “It beats 
all,” he thought, “how she can find out what I am up to.” 

Mrs. Archer was not aware of the fact that Miss Sallie’s niece 
was in town, and with a view of discovering the lad’s new sweet- 
heart, she said : 

“Come, now, I must know the young lady’s name before I 
consent to the party. You had just as well own up.” 

“I want to invite about six girls, and you know I could not 
be in love with all of them,” argued Ned. 

“No, I should think not,” agreed his mother, “and as there 
is no particular girl you want, I will invite half a dozen nice 
ones whom I know. How will that plan suit you ?” 

Now Mrs. Archer had cornered the youngster at last, and 
he saw that there was nothing left but to confess the truth. 


234 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


'‘There is one girl I want ; but, mother, please do not say any- 
thing to Tom, for he will tease me to death about her. ,, 

“Well, I’ll not tell Tom,” promised Mrs. Archer, “but how 
can I invite the girl if I do not know who she is ?” 

“Yesterday when we had the parade,” explained Ned, “Miss 
Sallie Brown had a girl with her, and I want that girl invited.” 

“Ah, the wind blows that way just now, does it?” said Mrs. 
Archer. Why, I thought it was Laurie Bannon you loved so 
desperately. Ah, Ned, I fear you are a very fickle lad indeed. 
You are hardly off with one flame before you are on with 
another.” 

Ned thought it best to make no reply to this, and his mother 
continued : 

“Well, you give me the names and I will write the invitations. 
Jim will have plenty of time to deliver them.” 

Ned gave his mother the names of several boys and girls 
whom he thought he would like to have at his party, and the 
negro boy was sent around with the invitations for the following 
Tuesday. The young folks were requested to assemble not 
later than five o’clock. 

Mrs. Archer added a few names to those which Ned had given 
her, and none of the invitations being unaccepted, there were 
not less than twenty boys and girls present upon the appointed 
evening. 

A number of games were played which were very popular 
with the youngsters of that day. This occupied the time until 
supper, and when the bell summoned them to the table all were 
ready, for exercise had whetted their appetites. 

The meal was served in the regular dining hall, for this party 
included girls. Ned Archer, who sat at the head of the table 
with a pretty lass upon either side, enjoyed himself immensely. 

Directly supper was over the boys and girls repaired to the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


235 


big kitchen which had been cleared for the occasion. Sam Mac- 
Donnel’s fiddle and Jim’s banjo furnished music for several 
simple dances. 

Very happy indeed were these lads and lasses, as they tripped 
lightly over the floor. While they kept time with the music the 
light from the wide fire-place threw quaint shadows over the 
scene, and all too soon the delightful hours passed away. 

In the days of which we write young people were not accus- 
tomed to keeping very late hours, and by ten o’clock Ned’s guests 
were ready to go to their homes. 

Now came the crucial test which was to try the courage of 
the lads, for they must each select a girl and take her home. 
Some of the youngsters were pushing forward, and Ned, fear- 
ing a rival, hurried up to Helen Brown and walked off with 
her. This may not have been very courteous to the other lads, 
but he was a boy and in love. 

He thought many times during the day of this stroll with the 
charming girl and what he would say to her. Now that he 
had her all to himself his tongue seemed to be tied, and almost 
before he could realize it they had arrived at Miss Sallie’s gate. 

Helen was just lifting the latch when Ned found his voice, 
and a lively talk of about twenty minutes’ duration ensued. The 
girl, thinking she heard a movement within doors, whispered 
softly : 

“Aunt Sallie will be angry if I don’t go in. I expect you had 
better go.” 

“All right,” replied the lad, “but won’t you go to the baptiz- 
ing with me next Sunday? We’ll have a splendid time.” 

“If auntie don’t care I will go,” returned the girl. 

Helen was leaning upon the gate and looking very sweet in the 
moonlight. Her face was close to Ned’s as she whispered her 


236 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


answer, and that young gentlemen, very bold now, bent a little 
nearer and kissed the girl lightly upon the cheek. 

“Is that you, Helen .?” called Miss Sallie in a sleepy voice. 

Before an answer could be returned, Ned whispered penitently : 

“Are you angry with me ?” 

The answer must have been satisfactory, for as the girl ran 
into the house Ned went off humming a love ditty in a happy 
voice. 


CHAPTER FORTY 


A SERENADE AND A GHOST 

Being on excellent terms with the aunt, Ned Archer readily 
obtained permission to take the niece to the baptizing. A greater 
number than usual were to be immersed upon this occasion, and 
a large throng assembled to witness the ceremony. 

The majority of those who were gathered at the old mill on 
this Sunday afternoon had come afoot. Many of them indeed 
had walked miles rather than miss being present. 

Captain Ware heard of the baptizing and rode over from the 
camp, accompanied by some of his men. Meeting two young 
ladies of his acquaintance from the town, the officer escorted 
them home when the service ended. The rangers returned to 
Peytons. 

This gave Tom 1 Archer the opportunity for a ride upon the 
captain’s nag. The gallant Texan was invited to take tea with 
the ladies, and he requested the lad to look after his horse. 

Ned Archer on this Sunday afternoon passed a delightful time 
with the fair Helen, and yet he was not altogether satisfied. He 
had considerable romance in his make-up, and he longed to 
perform some gallant deed in the girl’s behalf. 

If he could only rescue Helen from drowning or rush in and 
save her from some great danger, how she would love him. But 
these things always happened to his brother who cared very 
little for girls, while he could only look on and listen to the 
praise bestowed upon Tom. He firmly resolved to do something 
heroic. 

Long and earnestly the lad pondered over the matter, and 


238 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


finally he determined that as nothing better offered, he would go 
forth at night and serenade his lady-love. 

Having made up his mind to this course, he began the practice 
of certain songs. These he thought would be proper for the 
occasion and assist him in his love affair. 

“What in the name of de good Lawd hab cum ober dat boy?” 
Aunt Lucy asked one morning when she heard Ned singing 
“Annie Laurie.” “Him don't do nuffin but bawl from mawnin’ 
tel night. Him girtin' mity mewsinicle all at wunce.” 

“I tink Marse Tom gwinter put him to skeerin’ crows from de 
fiel’,” returned Jim, who was washing sweet potatoes for dinner. 

Ned finished his song all unconscious of the criticisms which 
Aunt Lucy and Jim were bestowing upon his singing. In a 
few moments he struck up another ditty and finally, after an 
effort at “Gipsy’s Warning,” the lad seemed to be satisfied, for 
he said as he walked towards the house: 

“I think now I am about ready for the serenade, and as it will 
be fair, I had better go tonight.” 

Fie was thinking of his proposed expedition when it occurred 
to him 1 that he had recently heard that the courthouse was 
haunted. If this was really true it would be rather risky to go 
out at night all alone. It Was plain that he must have company. 

From his earliest childhood the lad had been taught by his 
parents that there was no such things as haunts or spirits. The 
strictest orders had been given to the servants not to tell ghost 
stories in hearing of the children, but in spite of all this our 
young friends listened to more than one tale of spooks and hob- 
gobblins. 

Among their playmates and from Sam MacDonnel they often 
heard of these things. They felt sure their parents would not 
deceive them, yet to them all there was something fascinating 
about these weird tales. They ended, as youngsters are apt to, 
in favor of superstition and the stories that pleased them. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


239 


Ned Archer decided that some one must accompany him upon 
his moonlight stroll. Who should it be? Not his brother, for 
even if he asked him 1 Tom would only tease him. 

He might ask Jim, but he would be very sure to tell Tom 
all about it, so the negro boy was dismissed from his mind. 

Aunt Lucy’s grand daughter Liz was always ready to join 
in anything that promised fun or mischief. Besides, if she was 
pledged not to tell anything, no threats or persuasions could make 
her reveal it. As far as any of “Marse Tom’s” family was con- 
cerned, she was loyalty itself. 

Ned was sure that the girl would go with him, and as soon 
as she could be found he approached her with an air of pro- 
found secrecy, saying: 

“Liz, if I let you go somewhere with me tonight, will you 
faithfully promise not to tell a soul anything about it?” 

“Deed Gawd knows I’ll nebber tell a soul; cross my heart 
and hope to die I won’t,” declared Liz as she drew the fingers 
of her right hand across her breast to lend additional weight 
to her promise. 

Ned wanted no stronger assurance than this, and he told 
the negro girl of his plans for the night. He took care not to 
say anything of haunted houses or ghosts, knowing her fear of 
such things. 

Aunt Lucy retired to her bed, and Liz pretended to disrobe 
herself. She then took her accustomed place beside the old 
woman and made believe she was sound asleep. 

No sooner did the musical snore of the grandmother fill the 
room than the girl slipped noiselessly from the bed, hurried to 
the yard, and joined Ned, who was already waiting for her 
coming. 

It happened that night that Aunt Lucy was kept up later than 
usual in consequence of having to wait for the doctor and give 


240 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


him his supper. By the time, therefore, that our gay troubadour 
started upon his way it was well on towards midnight, and he 
had no time to w!aste. 

With the girl along Ned felt no fear as he passed the court- 
house. He trudged boldly on until he arrived at Miss Sallie’s 
gate and beheld the abode of his soul’s delight. 

All seemed quiet around the dwelling, and the heart of the lad 
filled with joy as he thought of how pleased the fair girl would 
be at this sign of his love. 

To gain a position beneath Helen’s window Ned found it neces- 
sary to pass ’round to the rear of the house. Before going the 
boy whispered to Liz to remain where she was until he re- 
turned, as he would be obliged to get over into the yard. He 
promised not to stay too long, and begged the girl to be quiet. 

Without waiting for Liz to make reply, Ned placed his hands 
upon the fence and sprang lightly over. A few steps brought 
him to the desired position, and fearing that delay might cause 
a loss of courage, he began an once to warble his love ditties. 

Two or three stanzas of “Gipsy’s Warning” rang out upon 
the soft air of the night. All remained silent around. “Juanita” 
was next attempted, and as the lad with all his powers poured 
forth, “Ask thy soul if we should part,” a deep rasping sound 
fell upon his ear. 

Could this be Helen hoisting the window? A few moments 
later brought the answer to this question. 

Being a lone woman, Miss Sallie Brown kept for protection a 
large, fierce dog. So cross was he that a heavy block and chain 
were used to prevent him from getting out of the yard at night 
to attack passers-by. 

In the daytime he was chained to a post near his kennel, but 
at night he was turned loose, and woe betide the unlucky 
wight who was caught within the yard. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


241 


Encouraged by what he supposed was the sound of a window 
being hoisted, Ned started to sing “Annie Darling,” one of his 
favorite songs. 

He got as far as the words, “The watchdog is snarling in fear 
of Annie Darling” when bow, wow, wow, broke upon his startled 
ears, and ’round the corner with bristles standing and teeth 
gleaming in the mbonlight rushed Miss Sallie’s big dog. 

Ned’s mind had been so completely occupied with the serenade 
that he had lost sight of the dog entirely. He knew now what 
had caused the rasping sound which he had attributed to the 
hoisting of a window. It was the animal as he came out draw- 
ing the chain against the kennel. 

The lad was in a desperate plight, for he had not a thing with 
which to defend himself. His only hope of safety lay in reach- 
ing the fence before the dog could seize him. 

On came the infuriated animal, the large block bounding from 
side to side and the chain rattling. The heavy piece of wood 
was the only thing that saved the boy. 

He could feel the hot breath of the dog upon his bare ankles, 
and he strained his muscles to their utmost in his efforts to reach 
his goal. 

Just as Ned placed his hands upon the fence the dog seized 
him by the breeches. There was a ripping sound as he vaulted 
to the other side, and a large piece of goods remained in the 
dog’s mouth. So humiliated was the boy that he walked off 
without a word to Liz, who had waited patiently for him. 

Feeling sorry for the lad and hoping to cheer him:, she said : 

“You suttinly did fool dat ole dog and git away from him 
slick.” 

“Dam the dog,” said Ned angrily. “He got the seat of my 
best breeches.” 

“Well you oughter be tankful he didn’t get yo’ hide,” re- 
turned Liz. 


242 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Ned was just going to make some reply when he felt a tug at 
his elbow, and the negro girl cried in a frightened voice: 

“My Gawd, les go back. We’s mos’ to de Baptist Church, an’ 
it am plum full o’ ghosts and hants.” 

Sure enough, there they were, for in starting from the rear 
of Miss Brown’s residence they had taken the way past the 
church. 

There it stood, with patches of moonlight falling upon its 
walls through the trees. It needed but little imagination to 
people it with ghostly tenants and raise the superstitious fears 
of the boy and girl to the highest point. 

Ned thought of all the stories he had heard of this very place. 
He knew that many soldiers had died here, and it was said that 
their spirits returned and walked about the building. 

But his temper was aroused by the dog and he cried boldly : 

“Come on, Liz; I’m not afraid of anything tonight.” 

They moved quietly on, the negro girl scarcely daring to 
breathe. They were just opposite the last window when they 
heard a noise within the church. 

They paused and listened. Again that awful sound which to 
the frightened boy and girl appeared to be sortie one tapping 
with a hammer.. This was followed by other strange noises for 
a moment, and then all was still. 

By this time Ned and Liz were too much frightened to run, 
and while they stood there a ghostly form appeared at one of 
the windows. Tall and white it rose before them, and as it 
seemed to lean upon the sill its fearful gaze was fixed upon 
them. 

With teeth chattering and limbs shaking ,the girl begged: 

“Oh ! pleas, Mr. Ghos, don’t take me. Deed I’ll be good, an’ 
nebber steal Mis Mary’s sugar no mo.” Then turning to Ned 
she said : “Fb’, fo’ Gawd’s sake, say sumthin’ ’ligious.” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


243 


The boy, his courage all oozing out at his elbows, scarce know- 
ing what he did, commenced faintly: 

“Now I lay me dow’ — down to sleep,” but before the last 
word had left his lips a sweet sound fell upon his ear; it was: 

“Baa, baa,” and this was followed by two or three quick 
snorts. 

“What fools we are,” joyfully shouted Ned. “It’s Tazewell’s 
old Billy.” 

“I knowed dat all de time,” returned Liz. “I jes wanted ter see 
ef yo’ wus gwinter be skeered.” 

Ned smiled as he heard this remark, for he knew that the 
girl had been frightened almost out of her senses. However, as 
he was exceedingly anxious that she should remain quiet con- 
cerning the occurrences of the night, he replied with the chal- 
lenge : 

“Come on now, and I will give you a race for home.” 


CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 


THE SECOND DEGREE 

One evening soon after Ned Archer’s unfortunate experience 
with the big dog of Miss Brown, that lady called at the home 
of Doctor Archer. The purpose of her visit was to inform her 
friends that Helen would leave for Marietta the following day. 
The girl was called away on account of the illness of her mother. 
The ladies took their leave about nine o’clock, and were escorted 
upon their way home by Master Ned. Miss Sallie, who 
thought of her own youthful days and the one romiance of her 
life, left the young people at the gate to say goodbye. Her 
thoughtfulness was appreciated. 

Ned passed his time in singing love songs and paying court to 
fair ladies, but his brother had been planning a second degree 
for the lodge. The assistant marshals were consulted on the sub- 
ject, and it was agreed that a goat should play an active part in 
the affair. The hint thrown out by Sam McDonnel some time 
ago was now bearing fruit. 

Tazewell’s old Billy was the very animal they needed if he 
could be enticed into the lodge room. This they thought might 
be accomplished by teasing, for the goat when annoyed would 
follow a boy upstairs and down. If they could only get Billy 
up into the room and shut him in the closet, he would lie down 
and remain quiet for some time. In any event, it was worth the 
trial. 

Having decided to make use of the goat, the next thing was 
to call a meeting of the lodge. It was thought that the n$xt Sat- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


245 


urday would be a good time, as most of the youngsters about 
town would be free to come on that afternoon. 

A full attendance was expected, for the report had gone 
abroad that the second degree was quite different from the first. 
Those who looked forward to an exciting time were not dis- 
appointed. 

On Saturday morning Tom: Archer found old Billy grazing 
about the courthouse square. He approached the animal and 
“baaed” several times in imitation of goat language. Billy 
paid no attention to the lad, but quietly browsed on. 

Tom had a small stick in his hand, and drawing near, gave 
Billy a quick punch and then ran. This was more than the goat 
could bear, and he at once took up the chase. 

The boy did not stop until he reached the steps of the piazza 
at Lair’s hotel. The two marshals, Walter Breese and Charley 
Hall, were waiting to help him with the rest of the work. 

There was one kind of annoyance that enraged old Billy beyond 
everything else, and that was pulling his tail. Other teasing he 
seemed to regard as fun, but a quick jerk at his abbreviated 
appendage was felt to be such an outrageous insult to his dignity 
that it could only be settled by resorting to battle. 

Our friends now took advantage of Billy’s sensitiveness upon 
this point to accomplish their object. Telling Charley Hall to 
attract the attention of the animal, Walter Breese stole behind 
him and gave his short tail a mighty yank. 

The boy then ran into the tavern and up the stairs to the 
lodge room. The goat, snorting as he ran, followed closely 
upon the heels of his tormentor. 

To escape from the enraged goat, Walter immediately sought 
safety upon the porch roof, which extended along the front of 
the building. 

Finding that he could not reach the lad, Billy turned to the 


246 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


open door of the closet. He probably looked upon this as a 
means of exit from the room, and entered therein. 

Tom Archer, who was upon the watch, then quickly shut the 
door. 

Having made Billy a prisoner, the boys decided to go home 
and get their dinners and return later to prepare for the degree. 
Tom requested the boys each to bring with them a piece of 
strong rope about five feet long. 

Walter and Charley were on hand with the ropes by the time 
Tom returned. The assistant marshals were told to fix a loop 
in one end of each piece and they would then be ready to secure 
the animal. 

With extreme caution the boys opened the closet door, and 
by the time the goat had risen to his feet the loops were over 
his horns. With a stout lad holding at each side Billy was not 
so difficult to control, though he fought hard at first to escape. 

Great interest had been aroused among the members of the 
lodge concerning this degree, and most of them were ahead 
of time on this occasion. It was well that this was true, for 
the goat, upon which depended the entire success or disastrous 
failure of the ceremony, was growing more restless every 
moment. 

The grand marshal and his assistants had donned their regalia 
upon their return to the lodge, and all being ready, the former 
remarked : 

“We had better commence exercises, for we don’t know how 
soon the goat may give us trouble.” 

“It will take two of us to m&nage old Billy,” said Walter 
Breese, “and we will need at least two more boys to put the 
others on and hold them until they make one ride around the 
room.” 

Tom went to the head of the stairway and called for Phil 
























































































. . 






< M -, M 1 


Mickey Dolan. 



THE YOUNG REFUGEES 247 

Bradley and Ned Archer. Before they entered the room their 
duty was explained, and Ned observed: 

“I know something that will be first rate to say when the boys 
are put on the goat. I read it in one of father’s books.” 

Everything now being ready, Phil Bradley stepped outside 
the door and called to one of the lads who waited below. A 
cloth was tied over the eyes of the candidate and Phil gave three 
raps upon the door. 

The gong replied, the door opened, and in walked the young- 
ster who was to have the honor of being first to ride the goat 
in that lodge. 

“My brother,” said Tom Archer very impressively, “before 
becoming a second degree Mason you must ride the great hippo- 
potamus of the African jungles twice ’round the mystic circle 
of the lodge. Are you ready for this great test?” 

We cannot say what answer was given, for as the grand 
marshal finished this brief address he struck the gong thrice 
and nodded to the assistant marshals. 

The youngster was then hoisted on to the back of the goat, 
and Ned Archer, who had been reading some in Byron, quoted 
very imperfectly from Mazeppa: 

“Bring forth the horse and bind him on.” 

Upon his first round the rider was given support and managed 
very w'ell, but the next was to be finished without assistance. 
Only two out of the first half dozen boys succeeded in making 
’round twice without tumbling off, and loud peals of laughter 
followed each fall. It was glorious fun for all but the rider. 

The lads who were at the foot of the stairs hearing the noise 
and shouting, could scarcely wait their turn. Up to the eighth 
candidate all passed off well, and the second degree Was voted 
a great success. 

However, “all is well that ends well.” This is a proverb 


248 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


which is as applicable to the sports of boys as to the graver affairs 
of their elders. And this was proven by the sequence. 

Mickey Dolan, the little red-headed shaver, whose acquaint- 
ance we made in a former chapter, was brought in. 

He was lifted to the back of old Billy, and upon hearing the 
address of the grand marshal, he remarked suspiciously: 

“This may be a hip-o-tamus, but Til be doggoned ef he don’t 
smell like a old strong he-goat.” 

This remark was greeted with screams of laughter, and one 
boy cried encouragingly : 

“Stick to him, Mickey. Don’t let him throw you.” 

“Ride him around three times, and beat ’em' all,” shouted 
another. 

When the boys released their hold of Mickey after the first 
round, the little chap determined to stick to his steed or die. 
He twisted his fingers in the long hair about the goat’s neck and 
dug his heels into the flanks of the animal. 

Old Billy had been getting more and more restive all the 
while. The noise and laughter excited him to the highest pitch. 
He tried to break away, and in the struggle the ropes slipped 
from his horns. 

With a loud and vicious snort he rushed at a boy and butted 
him down. The lodge adjourned forthwith, not even taking 
time for the usual closing exercises. 

Several youngsters darted into the closet, pulled the door shut, 
and refused to listen to any appeals from their brethren on the 
outside. The porch roof offered a safe refuge for a few. 

One lad ran ’round the room pursued by the excited animal. 
On reaching the door he opened it and fled wildly across the 
hall to another room. The goat dropped the chase and sought 
to escape down the stairs. 

Brave little Mickey stuck to his steed like a leech, but could 
not see his danger on account of the bandage over his eyes. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


249 


Tom Archer ran along the roof of the porch to the hall 
window, and fearing that the little fellow might be killed, he 
shouted the warning: 

“Roll off, Mickey, roll off, or he will break your neck.” But 
this warning came too late. 

Attracted by the shouting of the boys and the noise and con- 
fusion in the lodge, those who had waited below started to go 
upstairs. One large fellow was more than half way up when 
the goat appeared. 

Nearly a dozen were huddled together a little lower down, and 
so amazed were they at the sight of the goat and the boy upon 
his back they made no effort to move. 

Old Billy made one spring to the third step, stiffening his 
forelegs when he landed. Mickey shot over his head like a stone 
from' a catapult, striking the large boy full in the stomach in his 
flight. The two went down together, and Mickey, who was on 
top, was by the merest chance saved from a broken neck. 

Mickey Dolan and the lad beneath him went tumbling down, 
and the goat cleared them with a leap, upsetting the boys be- 
low like ten pins. There they lay at the bottom of the steps 
with arms and legs protruding in every direction. 

One chap who escaped being bowled over, spun ’round on one 
foot, holding the other in both hands and yelling loudly: 

“That doggoned ole goat knocked all the skin offen my sore 
toe. I’ll bust his derned head for him.” 

Old Billy answered this threat with a defiant snort and a 
flourish of his short tail, and loped away to join his family. 

The second degree had ended disastrously. 


CHAPTER FORTY-TWO 


CAPTURED BY THE RAIDERS 

Soon after the enforced adjournment of the lodge Captain 
Ware and half a dozen of his men rode into town. The 
rangers had some purchases to make at one of the stores, and 
while they were attending that business the captain himself 
stopped for a chat with his friends from Virginia. 

The gallant officer from the State of the Lone Star was a 
great favorite with every member of the doctor’s family. Tom 
and Ned were specially fond of him, and before he was fairly 
seated the lads were begging for a story of Texas and of the 
deeds performed by the rangers. 

Captain Ware was interested in the boys’ lodge, and inquired 
how it was getting on. Tom thought as his father and the cap- 
tain were Masons, there could be no harm in telling about 
Mickey Dolan and the goat. He also told them of the initia- 
tion. 

Ned, who did not care to be outdone by his brother, related 
his experience the night of the serenade. He did not forget to 
tell of the loss of part of his breeches or of Liz’s promise to 
steal “no mo’ sugar.” The stories were much appreciated by 
both gentlemen. 

Ned, after ending his story, went for a ride upon the cap- 
tain’s horse. The rangers came along just as the boy rode 
away, and were treated by Airs. Archer to some fresh butter- 
milk, for Jim had churned that morning. 

One tall fellow, after thanking the lady, declared heartily: 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


251 


“I never drank anything so good in my life. It is the first 
buttermilk I’ve tasted since I left Texas for the war.” 

Ned rode up as the rangers finished their milk. He said play- 
fully as he slid from the back of the horse. 

“I am to have two more rides, captain, before I get even with 
Tom. His ride from the baptizing counts as two.” 

“You shall certainly have them, my boy, if I stay here long 
enough,” responded Captain Ware, smiling as he spoke. 

“I hope you are not thinking of leaving us, captain,” the 
doctor said, in a tone which expressed much regret. 

“My men are getting anxious to see their families,” returned 
the Texan, “and it has been decided that we will resume our 
march next week if we get ready by that time.” 

“We will all miss you sadly,” Mrs. Archer replied, “and it 
will be some time before we feel safe again.” 

“If I thought that Bannon would return to trouble you I 
would not go,” rejoined the captain. “I think he has gone for 
good this time and you are rid of him forever.” 

“I hope so, indeed,” Mrs. Archer declared fervently. 

The captain mounted his horse as the doctor’s wife ceased 
speaking, and his men being ready, he called goodbye to his 
friends and rode away. 

Tom and Ned watched the rangers as they galloped down 
the road. Looking back when just beyond the so-called “haunted 
house,” the captain waved his hand to the boys. 

The lads flourished their straw hats in answer to this salute, 
little dreaming as they did so what their next meeting with the 
brave captain and his gallant rangers would be. 

For a long time our young friends Tom and Ned had planned 
a trip to the New Hope Church battle-field. This place was 
about four miles from town and was the scene of one of the 
severest engagements in that section between Johnston ^nd 
Sherman. The boys had heard much of the long lines of breast- 


252 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


works, of shattered trees, and trenches filled with hundreds of 
dead bodies. 

Hitherto Doctor Archer had not thought it safe for the lads 
to go so far from 1 home. After the hanging of the widow 
Allen’s sons, there was no knowing how far the raiders would 
go in their deviltry. 

These men were certainly far enough away by this time, and 
really upon their account the doctor did not apprehend the 
slightest danger. A special condition of the trip was that Jim 
should go along with the lads to look after them. 

The occasion partook somewhat of the nature of a frolic, and 
Mrs. Archer and Aunt Lucy put up a basket of good things for 
the boys to eat at midday. 

A gourd was tied to the handle of the basket so that they 
would have no trouble in getting water by the way or after 
they had reached the battle-ground. 

It was a bright and beautiful morning when Tom and Ned 
started upon their expedition for New Hope Church. They had 
partaken of a hearty breakfast, and both lads were in fine spirits. 

Jim was detained a few moments by Doctor Archer, who 
wished to impress upon the negro boy’s mind the importance 
of keeping a sharp lookout for raiders and also of returning 
before dark. 

The boy promised faithfully to carry out his master’s instruc- 
tions and bring the lads safely home. He felt very proud that 
Tom and Ned were entrusted to his care, and he resolved to 
forfeit his life rather than let harm come to them. 

With the basket on his arm and hat in hand, he hurried away 
to overtake “Marse Tom’s boys.” Just below Colonel Hall’s he 
found Tom and Ned impatiently waiting his coming, and off 
they went, chattering like magpies. 

Being in a great hurry to reach the battle-field, the boys lost no 
time by the way. By eight o’clock they were at the end of 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


253 

their journey, and after hanging their basket to a sapling near a 
spring, they set off upon their rambles through the woods. 

Along the small stream which ran from the spring Tom had 
noticed fresh hoof prints of some horses. He spoke of it to 
Ned and Jim, but neither of them attached any importance to 
the signs, and the subject was dismissed. 

Soon the boys were clambering over lines of breastworks or 
running along the tops of them. For miles these earthworks 
stretched away, line after line, and seemed to have no end. 

Hundreds of trees, torn by grape and canister, were observed 
by the boys. Branches had been struck by shells and literally 
wrenched fromj the body of the tree, while the trunks of great 
oaks, in many instances, were shivered by cannon balls. 

In their rambles over the battle-field the seekers after sights 
came upon a deserted dwelling riddled by bullets. Up to the time 
the battle of New Hope Church began this small house had been 
the abode of an old woman and her daughter. 

Just before the fighting commenced, the troops were lining 
up in order of battle, when a Confederate officer came along and 
saw the women. 

He ordered them to be escorted to the rear and sent to some 
place where they would be out of danger. The old lady begged 
for five minutes’ delay, and took fifteen. 

By the time she came out the battle was being fiercely waged, 
and the escort had disappeared. The bullets were falling thick 
and fast about the house, and the women retreated indoors. 

During the hottest part of the engagement they managed to 
save themselves by taking up some boards and getting between 
the heavy timbers that supported the floor. In the afternoon 
there Was a cessation in the firing, and the old woman was very 
glad to seek safety. 

With her daughter she was escorted beyond the danger line 
and started upon the road to D . There she was cared for 


254 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


by some of the good people of the town until she could be sent 
to the home of relatives living in the county. She never returned 
to occupy the house near New Hope Church. 

The boys spent an hour in and around the house and then 
went to take a look along the trenches. They were poking about 
among the leaves when Tim gave a yell of delight and pounced 
upon something at his feet. 

He had found a belt upon which was a full box of cartridges 
and one of caps. The ammunition was not injured, and the boy 
knew he had the material for more than one good squirrel hunt. 
He felt very proud of his find. 

By this time it was nearly noon, and as the boys were feeling 
hungry they made their vtey back to the spring to eat their 
lunch. Jim washed his hands at the little stream, and while 
Tom and Ned were bathing their faces the negro boy set out the 
lunch. 

The small table cloth which covered the basket was first spread 
upon the leaves, and the different articles of food were then 
placed upon it. The lively boy kept up a running fire of talk 
as he placed the good things upon the cloth. 

Ned was reminded of Sam Weller in the “Pickwick Papers,” 
when that worthy set out the “weal pie and cold punch” under 
the big oak on Captain Boldwig’s grounds, 

“Jim, did you ever hear of Mr. Pickwick,” he asked. 

“Mr. Picnic,” replied Jim, purposely miscalling the name. 
“Nebber mtade de ’quaintance ob no sich gemman as Mr. Picnic.” 
Then he continued, “Us had better be pickin’ some ob dis good 
meat off de bones. I’se gittin’ monstous hungry ’bout dis 
time.” 

The three boys ate a hearty meal and the fragments were 
stowed away in the basket. Tom and Ned each sought a shady 
place, and putting their hats over their faces, lay down to take 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


255 

a short rest. Neither of the brothers had slept much the night 
before for thinking of their trip. 

Jim concluded to take a look around for another cartridge 
box, but before going he called to the drowsy lads: 

“Be ready to start fo’ home; I’ll be back befo’ long.” 

He then walked away, singing as he went : 

“Jay bud settin’ on a hick’ry lim’, 

He winked at me, an’ I winked at him; 

Up wid a rock, an’ hit him on de chin, 

Good Lawd, nigger, don’t do dat agin.” 

With no thought of coming danger, the happy negro boy cut 
a pigeon wing as he finished his song, and then set off for a hunt 
along the breastworks. 

The boys near the spring dozed away for a while and finally, 
everything being so still and quiet, they dropped off to sleep. 
Now and then a snore came from under one cr other of the hats. 

They had not slept long when they were aroused by the 
trampling of horses and the voices of several men talking loudly. 
Springing to their feet, the brothers found themselves surrounded 
by at least a score of raiders, and among these men was Tim 
Bannon. 

Tom cast one terrified glance around in search of Jim, but 
the negro boy was nowhere to be seen. The lad resolved to be 
quiet and have but little to say. 

Before the men were within ear-shot, he whispered : 

“Ned, don’t answer any questions from these men and we may 
come out all right. I don’t think they have any idea of doing 
us harm.” 


CHAPTER FORTY-THREE 


JIM SEEKS HELP 

It will be remembered that when Bannon and his raiders 

took their departure from D they fully intended to return 

when they could do so with safety to themselves. They had 
no idea of abandoning their designs upon the lives and property 
of certain people in the town, but as long as the Texas Riangers 
remained they could do nothing. How they happened to be 
at New Hope Church just at the time our young friends visited 
the place we will now explain. 

On leaving the town the raiders went towards Atlanta. At 
the very first halting place a number of them slipped away in 
the night. Had there been any plunder in the camp, these men 
would not have hesitated to rob their companions. 

Bannon was now left with about twenty of the greatest ruf- 
fians of his band. To these the leader explained that it was a 
good thing to be rid of the others, as a greater amount of 
plunder would now fall to each man’s share. 

With his men who remained he then marched to a point 
between Marietta and Atlanta and went into camp. About a 
week prior to the visit of the boys to the battle-field Bannon 
rode into the former place to purchase for his men a supply of 
whiskey and tobacco. 

In one of the bar-rooms he met a man who lived just outside 
of the town. The fellow had been drinking pretty freely and 
was very loquacious. From his talk Bannon learned that a 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


257 


small body of Texas Rangers had stopped at his house to 
water their horses not long before. 

Though this information afforded great pleasure to the leader 
of the raiders, he would not accept it without the support of some 
stronger evidence. 

This was furnished by the man behind tne bar. He stated 
that two men had dropped into his place on the same day men- 
tioned by the countryman. 

They called for whiskey and tobacco, and in the course of some 
conversation he remembered that one man had called the other 
Captain Ware. 

Bannon desired no better proof than this that the rangers 
had departed for their homes in Texas. He paid for his whiskey 
and tobacco, and bidding the barkeeper good-day, he left the 
town. 

Strapped behind his saddle and over his shoulders, the raider 
carried a sufficient quantity of liquor in canteens to prime his 
men well for the work he had in view. 

Strange to say, neither Bannon nor any of the raiders once 
thought that the supposed Texas Rangers could be a part of 
their own company. But so it was, for when these men deserted 
their quondam companions they left the main road and allowed 
the others to go ahead of them. 

They, too, went into camp, but having little to live upon, they 
voted to disband and let each fellow go his own way and look 
out for himiself. 

Some went in one direction and some another, but for better 
protection a few paired off and travelled together. Those who 
went off alone were tired of raiding and made their way to 
their homes. 

Two of these rascals arrived in Marietta, and passing them- 
selves off for Texas Rangers, sold their horses and took the 
first train going towards the South. By sailing under false 


258 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


colors while in the town they were responsible for the fate which 
afterward befell their late comrades. 

Two things led Bannon and his followers back to D , gold 

and vengeance. The former they would take from several 
prominent citizens who were credited with the possession of con- 
siderable sums. The latter they expected to visit upon those 
whom they fancied had insulted them and thwarted their schemes. 

Not until they had settled every detail of their thievish and 
mlurderous expedition did they break camp. By starting early 
and riding hard all night long, they arrived at New Hope 
Church next morning. 

They spent one day and night resting and were preparing to 
move closer to town when they surprised the lads at the spring. 

It is true that Tom Archer and his brother were badly fright- 
ened upon being surrounded by the raiders, but they had no idea 
that they would be detained. 

Picking up the basket that Jim had left in his charge, Tom 
said carelessly: 

“Get our cartridge box, Ned, and let us be going.” 

Ned did as his brother requested, but when the lads attempted 
to move away they were brought to a halt. 

“Yer’ll not be goin’ yit,” said a big ruffian, brutally pushing 
against the boys with his borse. 

This was the same rascally fellow who attempted to stab 
Doctor Archer and had been knocked down by Phil Bradley. 
He regarded the present opportunity as a splendid one for getting 
even with at least one of the men he hated. The others he 
would seek later. 

Tom tried to push his way past the horses, but was informed 
that if he did not cease his efforts instantly he would be killed. 

He made no further attempts, and Bannon, who from the 
first had known the lads, demanded roughly : 

“What are you boys doing so far from home today?” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


259 


“We came to see the battle-field/’ the older boy answered. 

“Did any one come with you?” Bannon asked craftily. 

Although Tom had no idea what these men were seeking just 
at this time and place, he felt almost certain that their visit 
threatened danger to some one in town. He was resolved to be 
on his guard, and if it was possible he would mislead them. He 
considered it no sin to deceive such men. 

“There is no one here but Ned and I,” he replied evasively. 

Tom knew that as long as the negro boy was free there was 
a chance of receiving help from some one to whom Jim would 
take the news. Bannon did not question the lads any further 
at this time, but calling two of his men, directed them to take 
charge of the boys and see that they did not escape. 

To prevent any attempt of this kind upon the part of the 
brothers, a small but very strong cord was tied ’round the 
waist of each boy. Waiting until the horses had been watered 
at the spring, Bannon gave the order to march, and they moved 
rapidly away. 

Tom and Ned were obliged to travel at a pretty lively gait to 
keep from being dragged by the men who had the ropes. The 
youngsters held on to the basket and cartridge box, nor did they 
relinquish them for the remainder of the march. 

Bannon was seeking a good camping place where he could 
wait for the coming of darkness. He selected a spot in the 
woods near the back road something less than a mile below 
Colonel Hall’s. 

From this place he designed to take a short route through the 
woods to Doctor Archer’s. He would plunder the doctor’s 
house first, taking the homes of Colonel Hall, Miss Brown and 
Mr. Breese in turn. 

The parties named were supposed to have gold coin and silver- 
ware, besides mluch other valuable plunder. Of course, rob- 
bery was not the only object these men had in view. They 


26 o 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


intended to add to their stealing the blacker and more infamous 
crime of murder. 

Three or four good men were to be slain and women and 
children were to suffer because some one had insulted these 
dastardly plunderers. Can we wonder, then, that Almighty 
God in His wrath should provide a way for the utter destruction 
of such wretches? 

Bannon had declared that Doctor Archer should go unharmed 
except for being robbed. The better part of this man revolted 
at the idea of this wholesale slaughter. 

A passion for gambling had led him estray and thrown him 
into the company of such men as those with whom he was 
now associated and from whom he intended to separate. 

From every friend save his faithful wife he had become 
estranged. There were times in his life when his heart was 
filled with remorse and he plunged deeper into dissipation. How 
different might have been his end had he shunned dissolute com- 
panions and led an upright life. 

It was just as Tom and Ned were being led away that Jim 
returned. Seeing the plight of the brothers he hid himself behind 
the earthworks. He knew Bannon and he almost expected to see 
the lads executed at once. The poor fellow realized fully into 
what bad hands the boys had fallen, and his grief was pitiful. 

“Oh, my Gawd 1” he cried, as the tears rolled down his cheeks. 
“What will Marse Tom and Mis Mary say?” 

Even had Jim been with the lads he could not have prevented 
their capture. Yet he blamed himself for what had happened. 
He was too much excited at first to think that so long as he was 
free there was a chance for him to get help for the boys. 

The negro boy kept the raiders in sight when they left the 
spring, and when they halted at the end of their journey he 
was close behind them. 

The lads had eaten an early dinner and it was only one o'clock 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


261 

at the time of their capture at the spring. Bannon ordered the 
start at once for the back road, and it was scarcely two o’clock 
in the afternoon when they halted to await the approach of night. 

Some hours must elapse before it would be time to move, and 
they made preparations to amuse themselves with cards and 
dice. 

The ropes that held the boys were tied to saplings, and they 
were allowed to sit down and rest. They could easily see all 
that passed among the raiders and also hear the conversation 
that took place. 

“Don’t be afraid, old fellow,” said Tom, for he saw that Ned 
was scared. 

“Oh, Tom !” cried the little chap, “I wonder if they are going 
to kill us.” 

The frightened boy could hard 1 ” keep from crying outright. 

A dispute was in progress as t^ what should be done with the 
lads. Bannon wanted to save them, and some of the men agreed 
with him that they should be tied in the woods and take chances 
of being found the next day. 

The villain whom Bradley had knocked down was for hanging, 
and several raiders sided with him. Finally he challenged Ban- 
non to settle the matter by a game of cards. 

The leader agreed, feeling sure he could win, and so he would 
have done, perhaps, had he been sober. But he had been drink- 
ing heavily and in the end he lost. This settled the fate of the 
two Virginia lads so far as these men were concerned. But the 
negro boy Jim did not enter their reckoning. 

The faithful fellow had heard the challenge to Bannon and 
waited for the termination of the game. He then knew he must 
act quickly if he ever wanted to look Marse Tom and Mis Mary 
in the face again. 


CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR. 


JIM TELLS OF THE CAPTURE 

Doctor Archer, being pretty well worn out from his recent 
visits, had planned to spend the day pleasantly at home. Scarcely 
had the boys started for New Hope Church when up rides a 
very small darkey on a very big mule. For some moments he 
searched about his scanty apparel and eventually produced a 
note very much creased and soiled. 

The writer begged that the doctor come with all possible speed 
to the home of Mr. Lester. This gentleman lived ten miles 
from town and had been taken sick the evening before and 
was unconscious when morning came. 

Not a moment was lost in going to the aid of the sick man. 
Telling his wife that he might probably remain away until the 
next morning, the doctor rode off at a gait that was not at all 
helpful to his wound. 

Bouncing up and down like a rubber ball, the little darkey 
on the big mule vainly tried to make his animal keep pace with 
the physician’s horse. 

Some time after dinner Mrs. Archer, who was making a frock 
for Mary, took her sewing and went to the shady side of the 
house upon the piazza. Aunt Lucy was carding some cotton, 
and she brought her work “to be company fo’ Mis Mary,” and 
enjoy this opportunity for a good talk. 

Little Mary and Liz were having a great deal of fun with 
some young goats. They were chasing the animals up and 
down the lane and shouting with laughter at the antics of the 
frisky quadrupeds. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


263 


The lady of the house and her devoted old nurse wrought 
industriously at their tasks. At the same time their tongues 
were not idle. Mrs. Archer spoke of the accident that had 
called her husband away, and hoped the sick man would recover. 

Aunt Lucy shook her head, and with the license of a favorite 
servant, declared : 

“De ride is ’tirely too long for Marse Tom. ’Sides dat, he no 
bisness to go chargin’ an’ gallopin’ down de road same es ef 
he wus after de ’Ankees. He jes ’peard to fo’git all about dat 
woun’ o’ hisin. Sho’s yo’ bawn, honey, he gwinter hab trouble 
wid it.” 

Mrs. Archer could not help smiling as she gently responded: 

“Well, Aunt Lucy, let us hope that as the doctor has gone in 
a good cause his wound will not trouble him.” 

Mention of the doctor’s wound introduced the subject of the 
war. From this the conversation drifted back to their home in 
Old Virginia. One incident after another of bygone days was 
recalled, and the old negro woman spoke regretfully of “de 
good ole times befo’ de war.” Emancipation made no difference 
with her. 

Aunt Lucy was speaking of the day of Mrs. Archer’s marriage 
when the attention of both mistress and maid was attracted by 
a loud shout which came from the negro girl in the lane. The 
cry seemed to indicate both surprise and alarm on the part of 
the girl. 

“What can be the matter with those children?” asked Mrs. 
Archer apprehensively, rising from her chair as she spoke. 

Before there was time for a reply another loud shout was 
heard, and Liz was seen running towards the road. She was 
pointing at some object as she ran. 

“In de name ob de Hebbinly Marster, what am de matter wid dat 
gal?” cried Aunt Lucy, and her voice shook with excitement 


264 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


as she too rose to her feet. “Is she gwine plum crazy, screechin’ 
an’ yellin’ like a wild in j un and pintin’ wid her finger.” 

Mrs. Archer looked to where Liz was pointing and saw the cause 
for the girl’s actions. Out from the grove below the house ran 
the negro- boy Jim, and as he drew nearer he looked as if ready 
to drop from exhaustion. 

Mrs. Archer gazed farther along the road as if expecting to 
see some one following the boy. There was no one else in sight, 
and a chill of deadly fear crept ’round her heart. She divined, 
as only a mother can, that some great danger threatened her 
boys. 

Slowly Jim entered the yard, for he was thinking how hard 
it would be to tell his story. But when he saw the look upon 
the face of his mistress, who had always been so kind to him, 
he gave way completely. 

“Oh, whut kin dis po’ nigger say?” he cried in a voice broken 
by sobs. “Mis Mary, fo’ Gawd’s sake forgib me.” 

Liz drew near as Jim was speaking and observed that the boy’s 
face was wet with tears. Though she knew not what had caused 
the poor fellow’s grief, she began to wail loudly. 

This conduct upon the part of the girl gave Aunt Lucy an 
opportunity to hide her own emotion. 

“Stop dat bawlin’ dis blessed minit,” she cried. “I’ll shake de 
berry daylights out ob yo’. Stop, I tell yo’.” 

What the old woman meant by “daylights” we haven’t the 
remotest idea, but the girl understood it, for she instantly be- 
came quiet. She was sent with Mary to the big kitchen, where 
she was told to remain until wanted. 

During the time Aunt Lucy was engaged in quieting her grand- 
daughter, Mrs. Archer was striving to regain control of herself. 
She realized that she must hide her own feelings in order to 
obtain an intelligible story from the boy. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


265 


So far she had only learned that the boys were in danger. 
What the peril was which threatened them she must know at once, 
otherwise it might be too late to help them. 

Making a great effort to speak without exhibiting any trace of 
excitement, she said very kindly to the negro boy: 

“I judge from your actions that Tom and Ned are in danger 
of some kind. I want you to understand that you are not blamed 
in the least for what has happened. I feel sure that whatever the 
trouble may be, it was through no fault of yours. I know you 
would have helped my boys if you could.” 

“Dats de truf, Mis Mary, Gawd knows it is,” Jim cried in 
a voice which plainly showed his relief. 

Mrs. Archer Was rejoiced to notice that the boy could now 
control his feelings, and she decided to ask him at once to tell 
his story. Time was passing and precious moments were being 
lost. 

“Now, Jim, if we are to help the boys, I must know just what 
has happened to them. Remember that you are not blamed 
at all and have nothing whatever to fear.” 

Feeling very much reassured, Jim commenced to tell his 
story. He reached that portion of the narrative where the lads 
fell into the hands of the raiders and the mother’s heart felt 
heavy as lead. 

Her spirits rose somewhat when he related how Bannon 
favored the boys, and she hoped that all might yet turn out well. 
She breathed a silent prayer in behalf of her children. 

But now Jim’s voice began to falter, for he had to tell the 
loving mother that it had been decreed that her sons should 
die. With bowed head and stammering tongue, he told the story 
of the challenge to cards and how it had resulted. 

The mother’s cheek paled and hope died within her breast, 
for these very men had murdered the Allen boys, and it was not 
to be supposed that they would spare her children. 


266 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


What could she do? To whom look for help? Her husband 
was from home, and the men of the town, however willing they 
might be to assist, could scarcely furnish a horse among them. 
She wrung her hands in despair, for all earthly hope seemed 
gone. 

It had been the custom of Sam MacDonnel for years when 
not at work to saunter up town in the afternoon and pick up any 
stray bits of gossip which came in his way. Upon this day of 
exciting events he came along as usual. 

Seeing that something seemed to be amiss at the doctor’s home, 
he was impelled by a mixture of kindness and curiosity to stop 
and inquire what the trouble was. Not a thought of the real 
state of affairs entered his mind. 

In answer to Sam’s inquiries, Mrs. Archer told of the cap- 
ture and threatening fate of her boys. No sooner had our 
worthy friend learned that Tom and Ned were in the hands of 
Bannon and his raiders than he excitedly cried: 

“Git the news to Capting Ware. Ef eny body kin save them 
youngsters he kin.” 

“Oh! why did we not think of him before?” asked Mrs. 
Archer. “He is indeed the one to save my boys.” But just here 
a difficulty presented itself to her mind, and she cried : “How 
will I ever get word to the captain ?” 

The answer to the excited mother’s question came from Jim, 
who listened attentively to every word that was being said. 

“Mis Mary, s’posin’ you gib me a letter to de captin, den I 
see dat he gits it berry quick.” 

Mrs. Archer turned to Sam MacDonnel and inquired the 
distance to Peyton’s where the rangers were camping. 

“Sumpthin’ over two mile,” Sam informed her. 

“Dis nigger know a short cut fru de woods,” interposed the 
boy at this point. 

Mrs. Archer saw that Jim was her sole dependence for com- 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


267 


municating with the captain, and she knew that every moment 
was precious. She hurried into the house, and in a very few 
moments came running with a note. This she handed to the 
boy, to whom she said : 

“Take this to Captain Ware, and may the Lord help him to 
save my children.” 

“An’ Jeems,” observed Sam MacDonnel solemnly, “ef you’ens 
ever did git over groun’ fast, git over hit now, fur the Lawd’s 
sake, and the sake of them air boys. Run now ez ef the very 
devil himself was arter you.” 

Before Sam was done speaking Jim had passed ’round the 
corner of the house. From the well he took a cool drink and 
then struck off rapidly through the orchard. For a moment or 
two he was hidden from sight by the negro quarters and the 
stables. 

Presently he appeared running at full speed across the rye 
field. The last seen of him from the house he was going head 
down on a dead run across the far field of the plantation. 


CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE 


RANGERS TO THE RESCUE 

Sam MacDonnel tarried about the yard just long enough to 
watch Jim out of sight and say a few homely words of encour- 
agement to the grief -stricken mother. He somehow felt that 
Mrs. Archer would rather be left alone at such a time as this. 

He finally proceeded on his way up town to carry the news 
and pick up free a glass or two of his favorite beverage. 

Very little time passed before our friend Sam had circulated 
his story about town. Indeed, in less than an hour the capture 
of Doctor Archer’s boys by Bannon’s raiders w>as being talked 
of upon every prominent corner. 

At first the excited and indignant citizens were for organizing 
a posse and immediately attempting the rescue of the lads. 

But when they learned from Sam MacDonnel that Captain 
Ware’s rangers had been notified, they thought it well to leave 
the matter to those who were so much better prepared for this 
work than themselves. 

From her early childhood Mrs. Archer had been taught to 
believe that God would hear and answer prayer when offered up 
in faith. Knowing that this was true, she retired to her cham- 
ber to petition her Maker in behalf of her boys. Before shutting 
herself in, she told Aunt Lucy to allow no one to disturb her. 

She did not forget to pray for the safety of the brave men 
whom she knew would rescue the lads or die in the attempt. She 
offered up a prayer for the faithful negro boy, and begged that 
the Lord would bless him for his efforts that day in behalf of 
her children. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


269 


In this sore grief and trouble Mrs. Archer sadly missed the 
strong support and counsel of her husband. To add to her 
misery was the awful thought of what the father would suffer 
if he should return and find his boys not only missing but mur- 
dered. 

Bowing in her agony at the bedside, she cried : 

“Oh! Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: 
nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.” 

We left Jim scudding across the fields on his way to the camp 
of the Texas Rangers. Ordinarily the boy was a good runner, 
but today his speed was something remarkable. 

Brush piles, logs, or such like obstructions, he cleared at a 
leap, and on he went. Great drops of sweat ran down his face 
and fell upon the ground. His breath came heavily and his 
chest rose and fell, but still he sped on, nor slackened his speed 
’til in sight of the camp. 

This day, so eventful in the lives of our friends the Archers, 
was spent by Captain Ware and his men in and around the 
camp. Various duties, preparatory to their proposed start for 
Texas, engaged their time and attention. Saddles and bridles 
were carefully looked over and all necessary repairs were made. 
The men worked cheerfully, for their thoughts were of home. 

With one exception all the rangers were in splendid health, 
and that one was only troubled with some slight ailment of which 
he expected to be well in a day or two. 

The horses had been lately shod all around by the Bradleys 
and were in excellent condition for taking the road. The mules 
were pictures of lazy contentment. 

The Peyton boys, Bob and Jim, near whose home the rangers 
were camping, were with the Texans almost every day. On 
this particular afternoon Bob Peyton brought a message from 
the women folks at his house. Some bread, which had been 
baked for the captain’s men, was ready whenever they chose to 


270 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


send for it. This was intended as a part of their rations on the 
march. 

Bob had delivered his message to the camp cook and strolled 
over to where the captain was sitting upon a log. The men were 
soon talking of Texas, a topic that was at all times interesting 
to young Peyton. 

In fact, the brothers had long been anxious to migrate to the 
Southwest, and lack of means only kept them from taking the 
trip. 

You will remember that Bob Peyton accompanied Mrs. 
Allen home the morning her boys were slain by the raiders. 
On the road the widow' said to the young fellow temptingly: 

“Bob, Tim Bannon will murder you if he can, for he has 
already tried it. Now, if you kill him, you shall have money 
enough to take you to Texas.” 

The widow’s promise was recalled by Bob as he stood talking 
to Captain Ware. He supposed, of course, that Bannon was 
now far out of his reach. 

Just as this thought passed through his mind, a ranger shouted: 

“Captain, here comes Doctor Archer’s negro boy Jim. He 
looks like he had seen a ghost.” 

“Can anything have gone wrong at the doctor’s?” asked the 
captain, rising from the log as he spoke. 

“I hope not,” replied Peyton, “but from the looks of the boy 
I am afraid that he is bringing bad news of some kind.” 

Captain Ware ordered one of his men to question Jim and hear 
what he had to say. 

The ranger went to carry out the officer’s directions and 
found the boy in a state of collapse. 

He just managed to utter the words: 

“Wanter see de captin berry quick.” 

The boy was scarcely able to stand, and the soldier took him 
by the arm and led him to where the captain was waiting. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


271 


Keeping his hold of the exhausted negro’s arm, the man said : 

“Captain, this boy wants to see you, and he seems to be in 
a terrible hurry.” 

“Well, Jim,” remarked the captain kindly, “from your looks 
you seem to be in pretty bad shape. I hope there is nothing 
wrong at Doctor Archer’s.” 

“Here is de letter frum Mis Mary. She tell yo’ what de 
matter.” 

With these words Jim handed the captain the note written 
by Mrs. Archer, and then dropped to the log near by. 

Captain Ware opened the paper, and as he read the words con- 
tained in the note there was a look upon his face that boded ill 
for the captors of the Archer boys. 

He finished the reading and said to the soldier who had waited 
for orders : 

“Get my canteen and give Jim a little of that good old apple 
brandy We brought from Virginia. He is completely played out, 
and we must get him in shape to talk.” 

While this order was being obeyed, Captain Ware told his 
lieutenant to assemble the company immediately. Being anxious 
to obtain some information from the boy, the captain looked to 
see how Jim was coming on. 

The brandy, which was always kept in the leader’s tent, had 
been brought out by a soldier and a drink of it, mixed with some 
water. This was given to the negro boy, and the good effect of 
it was soon apparent. 

Jim swallowed the liquor slowly down, and rousing himself, he 
remarked longingly: 

“Dat berry good stuff, Massa Captin, berry good,” he repeated 
as he smacked his lips and rubbed his stomach. “I tinks a lil’ 
bit mo’ make dis nigger feel berry fine.” 

“We’ve got your tongue loosened now,” returned the captain, 


272 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“and must keep it going, but I suppose a thimbleful or so more 
will not hurt you.” 

The captain himself poured out a small portion of the liquor 
and gave it to Jim, who swallowed it with evident enjoyment. 
The rangers by this time were all assembled, and Captain Ware 
addressed them : 

“Boys, I have here a few lines to read you. When you have 
heard them I think you will undertake the work which will then 
lie before us with a great deal of pleasure.” 

The captain’s men gathered closely around him. He slowly 
unfolded the paper which Jim had brought from Mrs. Archer, 
and read as follows: 

“Dear Captain Ware: 

Tom and Ned left home this morning to spend the day at 
New Hope Church battle-ground. They were captured by Ban- 
non’s raiders, and, as Jim was away from them at the time they 
were taken he brought the news. Jim says that the men are 
going to hang both boys. My husband is now from home and 
may not return until to-morrow. For God’s sake try to save my 
children.” 

When Captain Ware finished reading he saw by the looks 
upon the mien’s faces that he could depend upon each one of 
them to do his duty. Indeed, they were already hurrying to 
get their horses and arms when the captain called to them : 

“Listen, boys, a moment, until we hear what Jim has to say.” 

Fortified by the good Virginia brandy, Jim told his story as 
we have previously heard it. Captain Ware questioned him as 
to the number of the raiders and their temporary stopping 
place. Judging from the negro boy’s story, the ranger thought 
the number of Bannon’s men was about equal to his own. 

















































Captain Ware Mounted for the Rescue. 







THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


273 


“Now, men,” said Captain Ware, as the boy finished, “get 
your horses and see that your six shooters are loaded. We must 
clear out this villainous gang of cut-throats in short order.” 

Off ran the men, and Bob Peyton, who all this time had 
lingered near, begged the leader of the rangers to allow him to 
take the place of the man who was indisposed. 

The captain had heard of Bob’s coolness and courage, and 
he replied warmly: 

“All right, old fellow, but you will have to move lively.” 

Bob did move lively, for he saw a chance of getting to Texas. 
He ran to the house, seized his rifle, and was back and had the 
ranger’s horse saddled in time for the start. Jim rode behind one 
of the men to point out the way to the raiders’ camp. 

The word was given, and away they went to rescue the cap- 
tain’s young friends or die in the attempt. How those fellows 
from Texas could ride. They went at a mad gallop through 
the town. 

Fred Gordon declared as he gazed upon their faces : 

“More than one of Bannon’s men will bite the dust before 
night.” 


CHAPTER FORTY-SIX 


THE LAST OF THE RAIDERS 

It is time that we were returning to Tom and Ned Archer, 
whom we last saw in the hands of P>annon and his men. 

With breathless interest the lads watched the game between 
Bannon and his Sergeant Bill. The former lost, and Tom would 
have abandoned all hope had he not known that Jim was free 
and would bring help to his brother and himself if it was possi- 
ble. Thought of this greatly assisted in keeping up his courage. 

The negro boy was a natural born mimic, and had taught the 
brothers to imitate the sounds made by various birds and beasts. 
The three boys had learned and practiced many calls which 
were known only to themselves. 

A few moments after the game of cards was won by Bannon’s 
opponent, Tom was sure he heard one of Jim’s signals. For an 
instant the lad’s ears were strained to catch the sound. 

He was not mistaken, and he whispered encouragingly to Ned: 

“I believe Jim has followed us and is going for help. Listen, 
there it is again. Don’t you remember the signal we practiced 
some time ago.” 

Sure enough, the boys heard what appeared to be four short, 
quick barks of a dog. These were repeated three times, and in 
each instance was followed by a long, mournful howl. Such a 
cry as is heard upon a summer night when some worthless and 
mangy cur is baying the moon. 

On the day after Tom and Ned had escaped from the Federal 
camp the three boys fixed upon this signal to be used in case 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


275 


of need. It was not so likely to attract attention as some other, 
for the howling of stray dogs was a very common occurrence 
about this time. 

Slowly the hours dragged along, and about five o’clock the 
raiders watered their horses at a stream below the camp. The 
animals were fed and the men satisfied their own appetites from 
the contents of their haversacks. 

The lads were offered something to eat, but they declared 
that they were not at all hungry. How could they be with 
death staring them in the face. 

Bannon’s men, while partaking of their meal, cast frequent 
glances in the direction of the two boys. Meanwhile they car- 
ried on the conversation in very low tones. 

Tom noticed the sinister looks of the men, and as the brave 
lad thought of his parents and his little sister, his heart failed 
him for the first time that day. 

The raiders finished their meal, and while they were stowing 
away the remnants of the food, Bannon walked over to where 
the brothers were sitting. He was joined directly by some of his 
men, and the boys were told to stand up. 

The face of the leader of the band was very much flushed 
with liquor, and Tom knew that this was a bad sign, for his 
former employer was vicious when drinking. 

The two boys had risen to their feet when Bannon said 
gruffly : 

“Tom, there is one way by which you can save both your lives. 
Your father, I am certain, has a large sum in gold which he 
brought from Virginia. Now, if you will tell us where this 
money is hidden you may go free.” 

“If my father has any money hidden I do not know where 
it is, and if I did know I would not tell,” replied the lad, speak- 
ing earnestly but without defiance. 

“You had better try and think,” Bannon rejoined. “Just as 


276 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


sure as you do not tell my men where your father has concealed 
the money, they will hang you both to one of these trees.” 

Tom remained silent despite the ugly threat conveyed by these 
words, and Bannon turned to his men, to whom he said : 

“I never knew this boy to lie, and I believe he is now telling 
the truth. You are not likely to gain any information from 
him even if you were to threaten him with death.” 

“We’uns air not goin’ to threaten. We’uns air goin’ to do the 
hangin’ all right, and hit had better be done without any mo’ 
foolin’. We’uns will find the gold.” 

“You had better find a place to hide yourself,” advised Bannon. 
“If you hang these boys their father will never let up the hunt 
for us as long as we are above ground. 

“We’ll resk it enyhow,” said one of the raiders. “Ef we git 
the gold he’ll never find urse.” 

“Don’t be too sure of that,” returned the leader, who was 

planning to play a trick on his followers as devilish as it was 

cunning. 

Being captain of the company, Bannon usually carried all 
the money, and so far had dealt fairly by the m)en. Upon this 
raid they expected several rich hauls of coin, and this he now 
determined to have for himself alone. 

At the first halting place he would see to it that the men 
were all drunk. They intended to rob Fred Gordon’s store, and 
means of intoxication would not be lacking. 

Waiting until the men were in a drunken stupor, he would 

rise, hamstring the horses and flee upon his own nag, which 

was the best in the company. 

Left on foot, the raiders would be unable to escape and would 
be captured and executed for the deeds done this night. His 
purpose was to ride to some point on the raidroad, dispose of 
his horse and reach the nearest seaport. 

He then intended to take passage upon some ship and leave 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


277 


the country forever. The telegraphs had all been destroyed and 
he had no fear of being caught. 

Something in Bannon’s manner caused the raider to whom he 
had last spoken to regard him covertly, but if the man suspected 
anything he kept it to himself. 

Bannon had observed the fellow’s look, and in order that he 
might allay any suspicion which the other might have, he re- 
marked testily: 

“If you are going to do this work you had better be at it.” 

Tom: and Ned were then brought forward and surrounded by 
those of the raiders who favored hanging. Again the lads were 
questioned in reference to the gold with the same result as 
before. The leader’s assertion had been correct, for the boys 
would reveal nothing and there was no use of longer delaying 
m'atters. 

That these villains were actually going to hang two lads, mere 
children in fact, seems almost incredible. Yet it was only too 
true. What cared these brutal wretches? Had they not hung 
two boys, but a short time before, only a little older than these? 

Aged men and their wives had been robbed by them, and more 
than one unprotected woman had been outraged and insulted 
by this very band. In short, no crime was so heinous as to 
cause them to hesitate before committing it. 

The favorite method of execution with the raiders was to be 
followed upon this occasion. The victim being bound, he was 
then placed upon the back of a horse and a noose dropped over 
his head. 

The animal was led under a tree previously selected and the 
rope cast over a limb. Making the cord fast to a convenient 
sapling, the horse was led away and the body was left dangling. 
Thus perished the Allen boys, and Tom and Ned seemed doomed 
to a similar fate. 


278 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The older boy had borne up bravely all along to encourage his 
brother, but when he looked upon the grim preparations for 
death his heart sank within him. Yet he did not altogether 
despair, for from the time he had heard Jim’s signal the lad 
felt confident that help would come. 

The thing most necessary now was time, and he tried to think 
of some plan by means of which the raiders might be delayed 
in their work. 

He thought of Captain Ware, and hope growing stronger, he 
said to his brother: 

“Keep up your courage, Ned. I am sure Jim will bring help.” 

“Oh, how I wish they would hurry! I am afraid they will not 
come,” said the boy as the tears coursed freely down his cheeks. 

Two of the raiders advanced with ropes ready looped, and 
Bannon stepped forward as if about to interfere in behalf of the 
boys. But if any generous impulse had prompted him to perform 
a good deed, he quickly checked it. 

Tom, who noticed this action upon the part of Bannon, asked : 

“Can we have time to say our prayers?” 

“All the time you want,” returned the leader of the raiders. 
Turning to the men who held the ropes, he ordered them to 
stand back and leave the boys undisturbed. 

The lads fell upon their knees, while the raiders drew back 
several paces. Being yet unbound, the brothers placed their 
arms ’round each other and murmured a prayer which they had 
been taught at their mother’s knee. To his credit, Bannon 
bowed his head. 

It was a pitiful sight and might have melted hearts of stone, 
but to the men standing there the word mercy had no meaning. 

The prayer was ended and Ned’s head fell upon Tom’s 
shoulder, and the latter looked sorrowfully upon his brother’s 
pale and tear-stained face. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


279 


The lads were still kneeling when Tom, whose hearing was 
rendered wonderfully acute by his deadly peril, whispered 
gladly : 

“Our friends are coming. I hear the horses galloping. Be 
brave now, and don’t let these fellows think that we are scared. 
We’ll soon be safe from all harm.” 

Bannon now indicated to his men that they were at liberty 
to go ahead. The villains followed the procedure already 
described, and not a moment was lost from their hellish business. 

The raiders were intent upon their work when the captain 
and his men turned into the woods from above. Five minutes 
longer and they would have been too late, for the loops were 
at that moment being placed over the heads of the boys. 

Captain Ware drew his men up in line a little out of sight and 
said quietly: 

“Now, boys, we’ll take them by surprise. Be very careful not 
to hurt the youngsters. If possible, let not one of Bannon’s 
men escape.” 

One moment they waited, then, as the woods rang with their 
battle cry, they charged down the slight slope that separated 
them from the raiders. 

Sitting on his horse where the rangers had first drawn up, 
Bob Peyton never moved a step. Raising his rifle he levelled 
it at Bannon and pulled the trigger. The leader of the raiders 
pitched forward to the earth, shot through the brain. 

So entirely were these men taken by surprise that not one 
was left to tell the tale. None of the Texas Rangers were 
injured. A stray bullet grazed Ned Archer’s thigh, and while 
it did no harm, he bears the scar to this day. 


CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN 


HAPPY ENDING OF THE ADVENTURE 

From a safe place behind a big tree Jim had watched the 
progress of the fight. Directly the firing ceased he ran to 
the lads and quickly unbound them. In his joy at seeing them 
free he executed an impromtu war-dance. 

His countenance fell when he saw the blood trickling down 
Ned’s ankle, but was assured by Captain Ware that it was only 
a slight flesh wound and could cause the boy no trouble whatever. 

The Texas Rangers gathered ’round the lads, shaking their 
hands and asking about their treatment by the raiders. Cap- 
tain Ware told the boys that they had behaved like men and 
that their father would feel very proud of them. 

Upon hearing this praise from the captain, Bob Peyton stepped 
forward, and placing his hand upon Tom’s shoulder, he ad- 
dressed the rangers: 

“Gentlemen, this very youngster prevented that man lying 
there from putting a load of buckshot between my shoulders,” 
and he pointed to the body of Bannon as he spoke. “I have 
tried today to pay what I owe, and if you care to look you will 
find a ball from my rifle imbedded in the villain’s brain.” 

Bob finished speaking and Captain Ware ordered his men 
to collect the horses and arms of the raiders. What money 
these men possessed Bannon carried, and Captain Ware took 
charge of it. 

On being asked what must be done with the bodies, he replied : 

“Many better men than these have been left to rot upon the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


281 

field, but we will attend to them tomorrow. Mrs. Archer must 
first be considered and her boys taken home at once. Get ready 
for the march back to town, for the mother will be frantic until 
we get there.” 

Tom, Ned and Jim were mounted upon three of the best of 
the raiders’ horses. The rest were led by the captain’s men. 

They entered the town with almost the entire population turn- 
ing out to meet them. The doctor’s boys were seen riding at 
the head of the company, one on either side of the leader. A 
loud and ringing cheer of welcome went up from the people. 

The rangers arrived opposite Fred Gordon’s, and some one in 
the crowd shouted the question : 

“Boys, what have you done with all them fellers?” 

“We put them all to sleep before coming to town,” cried one 
of the rangers. “It will be a long old day before they wake up.” 

Sam MacDonnel was in the crowd and was feeling the effects 
of having imbibed rather freely during the afternoon. Until 
Sam had spread the news he was the only person in the town 
who was acquainted with the facts concerning the capture of 
the Archer boys. 

At each repetition of his story he was rewarded with a glass 
of whiskey. He said he only took this “to drown his grief,” and 
he had immersed it very deeply whenever the chance offered. 

Drowning his sorrow usually had the effect of making Sam’s 
tongue wag pretty freely, and deeming it incumbent upon him- 
self to say something at this particular time, he shouted: 

“You’ens have lef all ’em air fellers dead, an’ the woods 
will be so full o’ sperits hit ’ill not be saft toe go by thar no 
mo’ uv dark nights.” 

“Sam’s a-thinkin’ he’ll not be able to git to the still-house 
no mo’ in the night,” some one in the crowd yelled sarcastically. 

“He needn’t be afeard,” returned the voice of a woman on 


282 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


the outskirts of the throng. “He’s got all the sperits in him 
now, an’ when he gits home Betty ’ll kill ’em with the broom- 
stick.” 

This was too much for our friend Sam, and fearing that the 
crowd would start a laugh at his expense, he slipped away. 

While this bantering was in progress, Fred Gordon and Phil 
Bradley were filling the empty saddles of the raiders’ with mem- 
bers of Tom’s lodge. This was done at a suggestion from Cap- 
tain Ware, who said it was only right that such brave lads 
should be accompanied by a fitting escort. 

Mrs. Archer heard the rangers pass her home on their way to 
attempt the rescue of her boys. She knew that she must now 
wait patiently and trust in the mercy of God. 

She tried to fix her mind upon some sewing, but the work 
soon lay unheeded in her lap, and the garment was forgotten. 

She put the dress aside, and after wandering idly about the 
house, she sat down to read her Bible. She was turning the 
leaves to find a favorite psalm or chapter when the silence ’round 
her was disturbed by the sound of many voices cheering wildly. 

Was this her imagination? or was it really some one shouting? 
Again the sound fell upon her ears, but this time nearer and 
much louder than before. 

The trampling of horses next attracted her attention, and the 
cries of boys mingling with the stronger voices of men were 
finally heard. 

She could no longer bear the suspense. She rose from her 
chair, allowing the Sacred Book which had been lying in her 
lap to fall unheeded to the floor. 

With beating heart and limbs trembling with excitement, she 
made her way to the piazza to ascertain, if she could, the cause 
of the shouting. 

A loud cheer greeted the appearance of the mother of the 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


283 


rescued lads. There she saw Tom and Ned sitting proudly erect 
upon their horses as if nothing unusual had happened. Sliding 
down from their saddles, they ran to their mother and were soon 
folded in her loving embrace. 

Laughing and crying alternately, Mrs. Archer clasped her dear 
boys to her bosom as if she could never again let them go. 

It grieved the lads greatly to see their beloved mother weeping, 
and in order to draw her mind from the trouble, Tom said 
gently : 

“Mother, you must thank Captain Ware and his men for saving 
our lives today.” 

Mrs. Archer assured her boy that she would not fail to thank 
the captain as well as his men for what had been done that day. 

Ned, who feared that one of his friends was about to be for- 
gotten, said thoughtlessly: 

“There is some one else you must not forget to thank, and that 
is Bob Peyton. I heard one of the Texas Rangers say as we 
were coming home that he shot Tim Bannon just in time to 
keep the raiders from hanging us. 

This was more than the already overwrought feelings of the 
poor mother could endure. What she had suffered during the 
day God and herself only knew. 

The full meaning of Ned’s words flashed through her mind. 
She realized that her boys had been standing in the very shadow 
of death itself. 

A faintness stole over her, and had it not been for the watch- 
fulness of Aunt Lucy, who was waiting near by her mistress, 
the lady must have fallen to the floor. 

Doctor Archer had not started from the home of Mr. Lester 
until late in the afternoon. His rapid ride in the morning had, 
as Aunt Lucy predicted, shaken him up considerably, and he suf- 
fered much pain from his wound. 

He, therefore, rode slowly on his return, and had just arrived 


284 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


at Sam, MacDonnel’s when he heard the cheering of the rangers. 
The latter were at that moment starting from Gordon’s store. 
The doctor attached no importance to the hallooing, though he 
wondered at the cause. 

Before he had ridden fifty yards further on his way he heard 
the shouting repeated again and again. Each time the noise 
grew nearer and increased in volume. 

That reminds me very much of the old “Rebel Yell,” said the 
doctor to himself. “Unless I am mistaken, that is the cry of the 
Texas Rangers,” he continued, as the cheering was repeated. 
“What in the world can be taking place in the town ?” 

Drawing a firmer rein and touching his horse lightly with his 
spur, he set off at a full gallop for town. He came in sight of 
home, and what a scene met his astonished gaze. 

There, drawn up before the house in two ranks, was a body 
of horsemen. Most of these he recognized as Texas Rangers. 
Mounted upon strange horses he saw a dozen or more young- 
sters of the town. On foot, shouting and waving hats, were 
a number of men. 

Upon the piazza he beheld his wife lying apparently lifeless 
in Aunt Lucy’s arms. Tom and Ned were standing by looking 
pale and frightened. 

Springing from his horse, the doctor cried in a voice filled with 
alarm : 

“In the name of God, Captain Ware, tell me what has hap- 
pened. What is the cause of all this gathering and excitement?” 

Captain Ware, who had been about to start to Aunt Lucy’s 
assistance when the doctor arrived, quietly replied : 

“For your wife’s sake, doctor, be calm. I assure you on my 
honor, as a soldier and a gentleman, there is no reason for 
you to be alarmed. Some unexpected but joyful news caused 
your wife to faint. The moment she has revived I will explain 
everything to your full and entire satisfaction. 


CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT 


GOODBYE TO THE RANGERS 

Captain Ware had scarcely finished speaking ere Docjtor 
Archer was at his wife’s side. With Aunt Lucy’s help, the 
unconscious woman was borne into the sitting room, where she 
was placed upon a couch. 

An examination of the heart and pulse assured the doctor 
that nothing serious was to be apprehended. 

Mrs. Archer’s clothing was loosened at the waist and neck, 
and while her husband bathed her face with spirits of camphor, 
Aunt Lucy chafed her hands and wrists. Under this treatment 
the patient improved rapidly, and presently she breathed a deep 
sigh and opened her eyes. 

The doctor knows that a good rest and some sleep is what his 
wife now needs. From his case of medicine he took a small 
white powder, which he mixed with a little water in a teaspoon. 
This sedative was given to the patient. 

Doctor Archer was very anxious to hear Captain Ware’s 
promised explanation, but before going from the room, he said : 

“Aunt Lucy, I will leave your mistress in your care. She will 
sleep for a few hours, so you will only need to watch with her.” 

“Marse Tom, will my chile be all right when she gits awake?” 
asked the old woman with a voice full of anxiety. 

“She must have a good rest,” the doctor returned, “she will 
then be just as well as ever, provided she has no cause for further 
excitement.” 


286 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


“Tankee, Marse Tom, tankee,” replied the good old soul. 
“You knows dat I carried dat chile in dese arms when she wus 
fust bawn, an’ I’se berry anxious ’bout her.” 

“Well, don’t worry any more, Aunt Lucy,” said the doctor, 
“she will soon be all right. Now I am going out to see Captain 
Ware, and if you need me I will be just outside where I can 
hear you call.” 

Being fully reassured, Aunt Lucy dried her tears upon the 
comer of her apron and seated herself at the side of the couch. 

The rangers who escorted Tom and Ned to their home had 
been joined by a large crowd of people. In order that Mrs. 
Archer might not be disturbed by the noise and shouting of 
these good-hearted citizens, Captain Ware sent his men up town 
and requested the others to follow. 

No trouble was experienced in getting the crowd off, for Fred 
Gordon, who understood the captain’s motive, invited everybody 
to go up and have a drink at his expense. 

Accordingly, when Doctor Archer came out he found only 
Captain Ware, Tom and Ned, and the negro boy Jim. Tom first 
narrated the events of the day up to the time his brother and 
himself were placed upon the horses and the ropes were about 
to be dropped over their heads. With breathless interest the 
father listened as his son vividly related the story. 

Next Jim told of his experience from the moment he parted 
from the boys at the spring until he entered the camp of the 
rangers. 

Here Captain Ware took up the story and completed it by 
relating very modestly the part which was performed by the 
rangers that afternoon. The doctor was also informed of the 
killing of Bannon by Bob Peyton at the time of the attack upon 
the camp of the raiders. 

It would be impossible to describe the father’s feelings when he 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 287 

fully realized what deadly peril had threatened the lives of his 
sons. 

He clasped the hand of the gallant Texan, and with tears in 
his eyes thanked him earnestly for what he had done. To the 
brave men who accompanied their leader to the rescue, he 
expressed his warmest gratitude at the first opportunity which 
presented itself. 

Poor Jim stood meekly by, expecting each moment to hear 
the doctor pour out his wrath upon him for leaving the boys 
while he went on a hunt for cartridge boxes. 

Instead of the scolding he expected, what was his astonish- 
ment when his master seized him by the hand and praised him 
warmly : 

“Jim, you, too, must be thanked, for had you not acted as 
promptly as you did my boys would now be lying dead in the 
woods.” 

Turning to Tom and Ned, the father charged them that so 
long as either of them lived the faithful negro boy must be 
cared for. 

“Oh, Marse Tom,” cried Jim brokenly, “I berry much afeard 
yo’ gwinter scole me fur leabin’ de boys at de spring. Gawd 
knows I tried to sabe ’em, an’ I did not mean to leab ’em in 
danger.” 

Here the poor fellow broke down and sobbed like a child. 

“Never mind, Jim,” said Doctor Archer, speaking in a 
kindly tone and placing his hand upon the boy’s shoulder at the 
same time. “I will never forget what you have done. Had you 
not acted so quickly no power upon earth could have saved 
these lads.” 

Mrs. Archer awoke that evening to find herself much better. 
Yet it was some months before she fully recovered from the 
effects of the shock which she had sustained that day. 


288 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


In after years the very thought of the time when her boys 
escaped from death by a hair’s breadth caused her to shudder. 

The doctor was standing by the side of his wife’s couch when 
she roused from her slumber. Aunt Lucy was waiting patiently 
to render any assistance that might be needed, while Tom and 
Ned stood quietly at one of the windows. As she awoke Mrs. 
Archer looked ’round the room as if she missed something, and 
then asked for Mary and Liz. 

Not until this inquiry was made did it occur to those in the 
room that nothing had been seen of Mary and her nurse since 
the return of the rangers with the boys. 

Now before Jim had started with his message to Captain Ware, 
the negro girl had been told by her grandmother to take Mary 
and play in the big kitchen, and remain until called. 

A long time passed, and no summons was received by the 
children. At last they grew weary of their games and sought 
rest upon Aunt Lucy’s bed. 

There they were found, both fast asleep, when Tom and 
Ned went upon the hunt for them. 

The Texas Rangers returned to their camp that evening, but 
early next morning Captain Ware and his men came into town 
bringing the property of the raiders. Bannon’s horse and the 
money found upon the raider were sent to his widow. 

The remainder of the animals, except one given to Bob Peyton, 
were distributed by lot among the men who had been in the 
army and who really needed horses for their work. 

What arms were found upon the raiders Captain Ware gave 
to the men about town. Tom Archer was presented with a hand- 
somely mounted little revolver, and Ned was given a small 
dagger. 

These weapons came from the captain as souvenirs of the day, 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 289 

upon which his young friends had so providentially escaped the 
awful fate which had befallen the widow Allen’s boys. 

About a dozen of the Texans rode out to the woods where 
the raiders had been exterminated and buried the bodies near the 
point where they fell. 

Sam McDonnel and the negro boy Jim were sent along with 
the doctor’s spring wagon to bring back the body of Bannon. 
Jim was given powder and ball sufficient to keep him hunting 
for many a day. He also fell heir to the only gun found in the 
raiders’ camp. 

The remains of Bannon were taken back to town in a rude 
coffin which Sam had made that morning. At the widow’s re- 
quest, the body was interred in an old graveyard not far from 
Bannon’s late home. So perished a man who, with the talents 
he possessed, might have attained a position of eminence among 
his fellow citizens. 

Acting upon Doctor Archer’s suggestion, Mrs. Bannon sold 
her remaining groceries to a Jewish merchant of the town. Her 
household goods were also disposed of, as she intended to return 
to her old home in the State of Mississippi. 

On the day following her last night in D , the unfortunate 

but highly respected lady was sent by Colonel Hall to Atlanta. 
There Mrs. Bannon and her daughter Laurie took the train 
which was to convey them to their friends. 

The day approached for the Texas Rangers to break camp and 
start for home, and Captain Ware spent all the time possible 
with his friends the Archers. The captain and his men proposed 

to ride into D and spend the night before starting on their 

march the next day. 

One evening a few days after the attack upon Bannon’s raiders, 
the Texas Riangers came into town, arriving about dusk. Among 


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the trees in the rear of the courthouse they beheld several large 
fires burning brightly. 

Near the centre of the grove were two long tables, loaded with 
food and apparently arranged for a banquet. A great number 
of persons stood lazily about the fires awaiting the coming of 
the Texans. 

This feast or supper had been provided by the citizens of 

D , who intended by this means to show their gratitude to 

the captain and his men. 

Not only had the rangers saved Doctor Archer’s boys, but they 
had cleared the community of a gang who were a constant 
menace to the welfare of the people. They had also furnished 
horses, with which a number of citizens of the town were enabled 
to carry on the work so necessary for their support. 

No sooner were the rangers dismounted than they were waited 
upon by a committee and invited to the tables. Captain Ware 
had eaten more than one good meal recently with his friends. 

His men, on the other hand, had lived principally upon camp 
fare since leaving their homes in Texas, and they hugely 
enjoyed the tempting viands now spread before them. 

Fred Gordon being called upon, made a speech, highly praising 
the rangers and their captain. The latter briefly replied, and 
spoke in flattering terms of the citizens of the town. 

It was nearly midnight when the people departed for their 
homes, leaving the soldiers to secure some rest. 

The Peyton brothers, who were in town, promised their 
friends the rangers that they would not be long in starting for 
Texas. The young men left the grove soon after supper and 
were accompanied as far as Doctor Archers’ by Captain Ware. 

The captain went to say goodbye to the doctors’ family, be- 
tween whom and the brave Texan existed a strong friendship. 
It is needless to state that the parting was very affecting. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


291 


Captain Ware was a gallant soldier and a courteous gentleman, 
and it was no wonder that he was loved by those for whom he 
had done so much. 

Tom and Ned especially missed their friend, and for days 
after his departure refused to be comforted. How they longed 
for his jolly laugh and stories of adventure. 

The captain, on his return to camp, was accompanied by Jim, 
who bore a goodly supply of provisions for the haversacks of 
the Texans. On the following morning, very early, the rangers 
took the road to Atlanta and were miles upon their way by 


sunrise. 


CHAPTER FORTY-NINE 


THE OATH OF AMNESTY 

Less than two weeks, perhaps, after the departure of the Texas 
Rangers, there came into town one day a large canvas-covered 
army wagon drawn by six mules. 

These animals were fine specimens of the long-eared family, 
and the driver looked with pardonable pride upon his sleek and 
well fed team. 

A Federal lieutenant, mounted upon a handsome black charger, 
was riding at the side of the wagon. Twelve soldiers, acting as 
a guard, accompanied the vehicle. Six of these marched in 
front while the others brought up the rear. 

Halting long enough to make some inquiries of a man standing 
near the courthouse, the officer then passed on. 

A final stop was made at a large unoccupied store which faced 
the square. There the lieutenant dismounted, the driver jumped 
down from his seat, and the soldiers stacked arms upon the 
piazza. 

Preparations for taking up quarters in the building now went 
rapidly forward. The company had made a long march that 
morning, and being somewhat late in the day, the men were feel- 
ing pretty hungry. 

The mules were unhitched and, together with the officer’s 
horse, were ridden by some boys to water. The animals upon 
being brought back were tethered in a vacant lot in the rear of 
the store. 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


293 


The driver, assisted by some of the soldiers, removed the 
contents of the wagon and stowed them away until they should 
be needed. While this work was in progress, a few of the 
men attended to getting the baggage of the lieutenant into an 
adjoining shop. 

This small building was to provide the officer with sleeping 
quarters by night and also answer for an office during the day. 

There was much speculation among the idle citizens of the 
town as to the business of this small but warlike company. But 
all were obliged to be satisfied with what they could see, for 
the soldiers gave out no information. 

Upon the morning after entering town two of the men went with 
the mule team for a load of feed. They returned about noon, 
having with them a supply of hay and corn. 

Strange to relate, Sami MacDonnel did not learn of the pres- 
ence of these soldiers until some time after their arrival. Our 
worthy friend felt keenly mortified that any one else should be 
ahead of him in spreading news of such obvious importance. 

Sam was usually the first one to welcome strangers and learn 
all about their business. He felt considerably relieved when he 
heard that as yet no one knew what had brought this armed 
company to the town. 

“Ef enybody kin git hit outen ’em, we’uns kin,” thought Sam. 

No sooner was MacDonnel rid of the garrulous neighbor who 
brought the news, than he at once put off up town to learn if he 
could “by hook or by crook” what the visit of these men meant. 
He must know their business before returning home or luck 
had deserted him. 

He thought it would not be a bad idea to drop into Fred Gor- 
don’s and take “a drap or so” to strengthen his nerves, for, 
said he: 

“We’uns kin talk better then, an’ do not fell afred to ax ques- 
tions.” 


294 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Sam walked into Gordon’s to find several of his friends there, 
and he decided to be in no hurry to leave company so congenial. 

The presence of the soldiers afforded these cronies a fruitful 
theme for conversation, and they were fully determined to make 
the most of it. 

Seated at a table, upon which was a decanter of whiskey and 
a number of glasses, Sam and his companions proceeded with 
their talk. 

They were just in the midst of an animated discussion, when in 
walked one of the soldiers. The uniform worn by the stranger 
was that of an officer, the lieutenant, indeed, in charge of the 
small company. 

After greeting the men at the table with a friendly nod, the 
officer walked across the room and spoke to Fred Gordon, who 
stood behind the counter: 

“Will you allow' me,” he asked very politely, “to tack a poster 
upon your wall?” 

“That will be all right if it’s nothing to get a fellow into 
trouble,” Fred cautiously replied. 

“You need not fear anything of that kind,” said the officer, 
smiling very pleasantly. “Should you take the trouble to read 
it you will discover it to be a very harmless affair.” 

With celerity that surprised the men sitting ’round the table, 
the suspected paper was tacked to one side of the room!. Thank- 
ing Gordon, and politely bidding all good morning, the soldier 
then left the store. 

The officer had scarcely withdrawn from the room when one 
of the men at the table sprang to his feet, crying loudly : 

“Come ’round here, Fred, and let us hear what this thing 
says.” 

Fred walked from behind the counter, and taking his stand 
in front of the poster, read to his friends as follows : 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


295 


“TO THE CITIZENS OF THE STATE OF GEORGIA: 

“This proclamation, issued by President Johnson, calleth upon 
all citizens of the State, of twenty-one years and upward, to 
come forward and take the oath of amnesty to the Federal Gov- 
ernment. 

“Lieutenant R will remain at his headquarters in the town 

of D for four weeks following the posting of this notice. 

He will administer the oath of allegiance to all persons who de- 
sire thereby to express their loyalty to the Federal Government.” 

This was about the substance of the proclamation, though it 
was not the exact language, perhaps, in which it was couched. 

Having waited long enough to hear the last word of this 
pamphlet, and take “a drap” before going, Sam MacDonnel 
excused himself to the men with whom he had been talking and 
hurried away to spread the news. 

He might have saved himself all that trouble, for the soldiers 
had been out and posted notices at every corner. Later they were 
stuck up at every cross-roads and blacksmith shop throughout the 
country immediately around D . 

Many of the people at first flatly declared they would have 
nothing to do with the matter. There was a change in their 
attitude when some of the leading citizens took the oath. Finally 
they yielded gracefully. 

Sam carried the news to Doctor Archer, remarking derisively : 

“That Yanky has cum here toe make we’uns take the ‘dam- 
nasty’ oath, but hit is mo’ than we’uns kin swaller.” 

The oath was explained to him under its proper name, for the 
doctor suspected that Sam’s cronies had been having fun at that 
worthy’s expense. 

He concluded that it was not such a dreadful thing after all, 
for Colonel Hall, Fred Gordon, and even his friend Doctor 


296 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Archer, went to headquarters and subscribed to the terms of 
the proclamation. 

One afternoon Sam walked into the shop and said to the 
lieutenant : 

“Let we’uns take that air oath quidk, we’uns is in a turrible 
hurry.” 

The oath was administered and Sam went out chuckling. No 
one had seen him. 

A strict watch had been kept by the soldiers on first coming 
to town, but finding the citizens were friendly, they relaxed their 
vigilance. 

The moon at this time gave a bright light, and the lieutenant, 
who was very considerate for the comfort of his men, allowed 
the guard over the horse and mules to be removed. He thought 
it impossible for any one to steal the animals without arousing 
some one within. 

Bob Peyton was in town one afternoon about this time, and 
dropped in to see Fred Gordon. There was a good deal to talk 
about, for the two men had not met since the wiping out of 
Bannon and his raiders. 

There was no one about as Bob was taking his leave, and he 
remarked, as the storekeeper followed him towards the rear 
door: 

“Fred, you know I have been wanting for a long time to go to 
Texas. One of my friends lately assisted me some towards 
carrying out this desire, but I still have need of money. I am 
now determined to make the enemy do the rest.” 

“What in the thunder do you mean, Bob?” asked Fred Gor- 
don. Then, as a suspicion of Bob’s purpose occurred to him, he 
sank his voice to a whisper, as if the very walls had ears. 

“Bob, old fellow,” he said, “I think I know what you are up 
to, but for God’s sake be careful of yourself, for if you are 
caught those men will hang you without mercy.” 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


297 


Bob Peyton was considerably affected to witness this concern 
upon the part of his friend, and he replied feelingly: 

“Remember, Fred, you must know nothing about me or my 
affairs, or it would be much worse for you. I will now say 
goodbye, and if I should never see you again, try to think kindly 
of me.” 

These two strong men clasped hands and there were tears in 
their eyes. But this was no sign of weakness, for they were 
both brave men. 

Besides, Fred Gordon was thinking of that day when they were 
boys, and Bob Peyton had risked his own life to save him from 
drowning. He could not carelessly bid adieu to his friend, whom 
he suspected was about to risk his life. 

Bob slipped out the back way between two buildings in order 
that no one might see him coming from Gordon’s. Looking up 
at the sky as he stepped into a side street, he muttered : 

“It is getting cloudy and the night is sure to be dark. I see 
no reason why I should not succeed.” 

The night was dark, as Bob Peyton had predicted. Being a 
little chilly and the window glass all gone from the buildings, the 
lieutenant and his men wrapped themselves in their blankets and 
slumbered snugly and soundly away. Their dreams were peace- 
ful, and they had no thought of harm. 

But lo! when the morning light had come and the veil of 
darkness was lifted, they gazed from the windows and saw 
neither horse nor mules. 

Could they be gone? The men sat up, and rubbing the sleep 
from their eyes, took another look. The animals were gone 
without doubt. Could they all have strayed ? Impossible ! They 
were surely gone, and gone forever. 

Who took them no one ever knew. If Bob Peyton and his 


298 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


brother departed for Texas just at this time, the soldiers heard 
nothing of it. They looked for the animals, it is true, but they 
did not go far from town. 

A messenger was sent to Atlanta, and upon his return with a 
new team the lieutenant and his men shook the very dust of 
D— — from their feet and departed much wiser than they came. 


CHAPTER FIFTY 


OUR FRIENDS BID ADIEU TO DIXIE 

The time has now come when we must say goodbye to the 
friends whose fortunes we have followed thus far in our 
story. Before bringing our narrative to a close, we think it 
only proper to speak of the change which about this time occurred 
in the situation and lives of Doctor Archer and his family, and 
which also affected the future of Sam MacDonnel. 

Some weeks after the events recorded in the foregoing chap- 
ter, the doctor, who had lately been in correspondence with 
friends in the State of Maryland, was proffered a position in a 
medical school in Baltimore. 

This offer presented many advantages, and after carefully 
considering the matter, it was decided to accept it. 

In reaching a decision upon the subject, the doctor and his 
wife took into consideration many things. Chief among these 
were the time which it would require to recover from the effects 
of the war, the unsettled condition of the country; but most of 
all, the lack of good schools for their children. 

Before giving his friends in the Monumental City a definite 
answer, Doctor Archer determined to pay a visit there and see 
for himself how matters stood. He was so well pleased with the 
prospect that he wrote to his wife requesting her to begin 
preparations at once for the removal of the family to Baltimore. 

The letter received from the doctor was followed in a few 

days by the gentleman himself. He had left D wearing 

home-spun garments. He returned attired in fashionable apparel. 


300 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


Commenting upon the change in the doctor’s outward appear- 
ance, Fred Gordon said jokingly: 

“I thought at first he was some darned carpet-bagger and was 
going to shoot him, but recognized him just in time.” 

During our friend’s absence in Baltimore, one of Mr. Breese’s 
daughters married a young lawyer, who intended to settle and 

practice in D . This gentleman called on the doctor upon 

his return and made an offer for the home place and whatever 
personal property he cared to dispose of. The proposal was a 
good one, and the business was soon concluded. 

This transaction settled beyond all question that Doctor 
Archer’s family would leave for Baltimore. Numerous invita- 
tions to pass the evening and take tea poured in upon them, and 
this kindness was highly appreciated by the Virginians. 

A few days before their departure Colonel Hall invited a 
number of ladies and gentlemen to meet the doctor and his wife 
at his home. The colonel had but recently decided to take up 
his residence in Rome, and he took advantage of this opportunity 
to announce his intention. 

Sam MacDonnel was so much grieved at the thought of part- 
ing from his friends, especially the two lads, that he actually 
wept. Tom and Ned pitied him very much, and did all they 
could to console him. The youngsters could not bear the idea 
of leaving the good-hearted fellow, and begged their father 
to take him along to their new home. 

He was a good mechanic and the doctor knew that he could 
secure plenty of work where they were going. One thing only 
stood in the way, and that was Sam’s fondness for liquor. 

Sam was spoken to very kindly upon this subject, and prom- 
ised faithfully that if allowed to accompany the family he would 
never touch strong drink again while he lived. 

This promise to the doctor was never broken, and Betty went 
about the work of packing with a light heart. The young lawyer 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


301 


who was to look after the remaining property of Doctor Archer, 
agreed to arrange for the sale of Sam’s house and shop and 
send him the proceeds, minus the commission. 

After the extermination of the raiders Doctor Archer pub- 
lished far and wide the finding of the gold by his son. No 
claimant for the money ever appeared, and it was afterwards 
used to pay the expenses of Ned’s attendance at school. 

A small crippled lad was the recipient of two of the best 
trained goats and the wagon which had belonged to Tom and 
Ned. The rest of the goats and a number of pigeons were 
divided among others of their playmates. 

Some time after the doctor returned from Baltimore a young 
physician from Atlanta arrived in town, ready and willing to 
look after the health of the people. 

Doctor Archer had secured the services of this young man 
when he was on his way to Maryland. The newcomer was highly 
recommended to the doctor, and the latter was glad that there 
was some one to take his place. 

With the exception of the boys, the members of the family 

spent their last night in D at Colonel Hall’s. Tom and Ned 

stayed with Mr. Breese and slept in the same downy bed which 
had rested their tired limbs the night of their arrival. 

Morning came and the two boys said goodbye to their kind 
friends and left for Colonel Hall’s, where their parents awaited 
them. The colonel’s carriage was to take them to Cartersville, 
where they would begin their railroad journey. 

How vividly came to the memory of the lads their first morn- 
ing in Georgia ! How well they remembered the walk through 
the grove! 

Stopping at the spring, they took a last drink of its cool and 
sparkling water. The brothers then cast a farewell glance 
around the place where they had spent so many joyous hours, 
and their hearts were sad as they turned and left the grove. 


302 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


But the saddest moment of all was when they drove past 
their beautiful home and bade it adieu forever. How dearly 
they had learned to love every spot about it. 

The broad and shady piazzas, the sheltering oaks, the big, 
roomy kitchen, where so often they had danced and played. All 
these loved objects faded from their view, never to be seen by 
them again. If the children wept, it was not to be wondered at. 

Trunks, packing cases, and whatever the doctor’s family took 
with them were hauled to the railroad by Mr. Tazewell’s large 
wagons. 

With these teams went a stout spring wagon in which rode 
Sam and Betty MacDonnel, Aunt Lucy, Jim and Liz. Some 
trunks were also carried in this vehicle, with other luggage of 
the servants. 

Without accident of any kind our friends arrived in Balti- 
more, where they spent the winter. In the spring the doctor 
purchased a pleasant home a few miles out from the city. By 
using the railroad he could reach the college in ample time for 
his lectures and return to his home for an early supper. 

Tom and Ned attended school in the city, and went in and 
out each day in company with their father. For a year or so 
Mary had a governess at home, but later she attended a seminary 
for young ladies in Baltimore. 

The doctor kept a horse and cow, and as there were three 
or four acres belonging to the place, Jim had plenty to do. He 
was perfectly delighted to get away from the city, and one day 
remarked to Aunt Lucy disdainfully : 

“Dem fool niggers in town put on mo’ airs dan a monkey.” 

“Well,” replied the old woman, “dat’s about all deys got to 
put on. Don’t yo’ bodder yo’ haid ’bout ’em.” 

Liz entered the matrimonial state with a mulatto barber in 
Baltimore two years after coming from the South. She lived 
but a short time to enjoy life in the city, for she was carried 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


303 


off by consumption, a disease quite prevalent among the negroes 
at the time. 

Aunt Lucy died three years after the death of her grand- 
daughter. The old woman was sincerely mourned by every 
member of the doctor’s family. 

In pursuance of a wish expressed prior to her decease, her 
body was sent to Virginia to be interred by the side of her hus- 
band’s grave. 

The sale of his late home in Georgia netted Sam MacDonnel 
a very snug sum of money. This he wisely invested in a house 
and a few acres near the home of his friends. 

He engaged in the business of market gardening and poultry 
raising, and found ready sale for all his products in the city. 
Betty was now in her element, and the worthy couple were soon 
laying up money. 

Sam died twenty years after settling in his new home, and 
Betty, not caring to be alone, disposed of her property and went 
to spend her time with Mrs. Archer. 

At her death it was found that all she possessed went to her 
three young friends — Tom, Ned and Mary — who were to share 
equally. Betty had always shown a sunny disposition, and her 
lively chatter and bustling ways were sadly missed. 

In his new work Doctor Archer found both profit and pleasure, 
and had it not been for the injury received during the war, he 
might have lived to a good old age. 

The doctor’s wound had given him more or less pain ever 
since he had left the hospital. About eight or nine years after 
leaving his home in Georgia, it began to trouble him again very 
seriously. 

All that skill and medicine could accomplish were used in his 
behalf, but nothing availed to save his life. Ten years only 
elapsed from the time of his coming to Maryland until the day 
of his death. 


304 


THE YOUNG REFUGEES 


The loving husband, the indulgent parent, the kind master was 
no more. Sad indeed were the hearts of the wife, children and 
servants when the earth fell upon the casket which hid from 
their sight the form of one they all had loved so well. 

Mrs. Archer survived her husband more than a score of years, 
for she lived to the age of eighty-three. She was always fond 
of young people, and the children of the neighboring families 
loved to listen to her stories of the dark days of the war. Often 
the youngsters came bearing fruits and flowers for their kind old 
friend. 

The good lady was not only loved by the little folks, but many 
older persons stopped to exchange a word with, and receive a 
pleasant smile from, Mrs. Archer. 

Beggars and tramps who annually came from the city were 
sure to look for the old lady with beautiful white hair. They 
knew she was to be found, on fine days, seated beneath the 
broad shade of the great chestnut tree reading her Bible. They 
also knew she was likely to bestow alms. 

Her three children tenderly loved and cared for her that she 
might be spared to them as many years as possible. Her grand- 
children vied with their parents and with each other in their 
efforts to render her declining years comfortable and happy. At 
a ripe age she passed from earth, maintaining her bright and 
cheerful disposition to the end. 

Shortly after Doctor Archer’s death, Jim, then grown to a 
stalwart man, took to himself a wife. With money left him by 
the doctor he purchased a couple of acres of ground and erected 
thereon a small but comfortable home. 

Until the day of his death the faithful fellow regarded him- 
self as belonging to the doctor’s family. No offer of employ- 
ment, however tempting, could induce him to go very far from 
“Marse Tom’s boys.” 


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305 


At least twice a week he paid a visit to “his white folks” to 
make an offer of his services and talk over the days gone by. 

Tom Archer, upon attaining his majority, carried out the 
resolution made in his boyhood and became a Mason. We can 
imagine that he found the Masonic order quite a different thing 
from what his boyish fancy had pictured it. 

To the lasting regret of the brothers, they never again heard 
of their friends, Captain Ware or Dick Carroll. But they were 
not forgotten. It would indeed have been hard for Tom and 
Ned to forget the gallant Texan, and the day he rescued them 
from an awful death at the hands of the raiders. 



















































